


I Can Resist Everything Except Temptation

by NCW



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Multi, Polyamory, Smut, alternative universe - no powers, communal living, no beta we die like men, phosie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26286571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCW/pseuds/NCW
Summary: People in L.A are so weird.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 62
Kudos: 225





	1. To Define Is To Limit

**Author's Note:**

> Title of story and chapters are all quotes from Oscar Wilde. 
> 
> I’m new at writing fanfiction. I haven’t posted any of my writing in years and wanted to get back into that without too much stress or expectations. Hopefully this is a good fit.

Josie closes her eyes, just for a moment, and rests her head on the hot plastic of the steering wheel in their car. It shook along with the rumble of the engine. Like a faint, consistent, sort of vibration that soothed the ache in her skull. Somewhere in the distance, sirens scream out before blending into the void of traffic. The sounds of horns and squeaky breaks ring out from all directions and Josie can’t believe they’re so many people in one place. 

It doesn’t help that the sun is actually trying to burn them alive. The air conditioner in the car had died a long time ago. It was never an issue back home but now Josie isn’t sure how they’re going to survive. Even with all the windows rolled down, the searing heat and smog filled humidity of Los Angles was inescapable. It is the height of summer and Josie already has doubts she’ll make it until the cooler seasons. 

She can feel beads of sweat all along her forehead, threatening to run down into her eyes as the traffic continues to creep forward. They’re moving at a snails pace, honestly. She barely eases her foot off the brake before, unsurprisingly, having to stop again. 

“Damn it,” she complains, throwing her head back against the headrest in exhaustion and  
regret. 

Her twin sister, Lizzie, had insisted they wouldn’t need a car. Everyone uses taxis, she said. We’ll live in walking distance of everything we need, she said. Josie hates admitting defeat but by God does she wish she had just listened. If they had flown in and caught a cab to their new place she could of avoided half of this traffic and all of the driving stress. 

It’s just that this is their first time so far away from home and not having their own personal means of transportation seemed foolish. Who’s foolish now? It takes about thirty seven hours to even get to Los Angeles from their small town of Mystic Falls in Virginia. She doesn’t want to think about how long they’ve been in this damn car. Absentmindedly, she tucks the sweaty strands of her dark hair behind her ears and runs her hands through the rest in an attempt to tame the frizzy mess. 

Her eyes ﬂicker up to assess the damage in the rear view mirror. Josie’s always had insecurities concerning her appearance but there’s no denying that she looks like an absolute disaster right now. Her light complexion is blotchy, dark smudges underneath her brown eyes, dull and vacant, devoid of the enthusiasm she’s so accustomed to. She hardly even recognizes herself. A driver behind her suddenly honks and holds down the horn, like somehow it’s Josie holding up the entire lane.

“Oh my f—“ Josie cuts herself off, choosing instead to lift her foot off the brake, inching closer to the car in front of her hoping to satisfy the impatient driver behind her. 

The longer they sit in traffic the longer Josie’s mind has to wonder. The soft indie music seeping through the speakers is doing nothing to distract her and she’s having a hard time worrying that they should just go home. Maybe moving across the country by themselves to one of the largest (and most expensive) cities in the United States of America wasn’t the best idea. Josie’s on the verge of a break down and they haven’t even arrived yet. The traffic alone is enough to scare her away she can’t imagine what the big city is going to do to her. 

She grips the steering wheel tighter, willing the negative thoughts away, but all it does is make her realize how sweaty her palms are. She hates how timid of the world she is. She’s twenty two years old, this is the age most of her peers are the most daring. Josie isn’t like them though, too scared of not making a solid future for herself. She was never that uptight as a child. 

She was young and wild and carefree. But it is different now. Of course it is. They are adults and life is harsh. Josie knows she should have seen it coming, they'd warned her enough after all. 

Nearly every adult in her life would tell her, “Just wait until you’re older and you get out in the real world.” 

Her and her sister would just roll their eyes, stubborn teenagers unconvinced by their elders. They were secure in the false belief that even if it was true, they were the exceptions and not the rule. They’d be different and Josie still desperately wants to be. She’s completely and genuinely terrified to not be. She doesn’t want to be stuck at some job she hates all her life, in a town she hates, in a loveless relationship that she hates. 

She doesn’t want to be the bitter adult crushing children’s dreams because she hadn’t made her own come true. So she dumped her boyfriend, applied for a job, and moved. Deep inside though, her mind plays devil’s advocate, whispering over and over again that it isn’t enough. 

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Lizzie suddenly yells at the car in front of them. “Stop letting everyone cut in!”

Lizzie is everything Josie isn’t. Sharing a womb didn’t do much in the sense of making them identical. While Josie is unsure of herself, Lizzie is fully confident. Just as wild and carefree as they were when they were kids. Becoming an adult didn’t change Lizzie’s ideals on who she is or what she could accomplish. Josie isn’t jealous of her though, only comforted. 

If Josie could do this it will only be because her sister is at her side. That is certain. Lizzie drove the first half of the trip and decided to spend the rest of it with her feet on the dash and seat laid back almost as far as it could go. She’s taking pictures of the city on her phone but Josie can tell her sister is glaring at all of the surrounding vehicles. Even through her sunglasses, her death stare is unmistakable. 

Lizzie doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself anymore than Josie. Her blonde hair is tossed up in a messy bun and her cropped cami seems to cling to her thin frame uncomfortably. She had given up and tossed her jacket in the backseat along time ago. Now all of her exposed skin looks beyond sun kissed, teetering into sun burnt territory instead. Lizzie, as a whole, is equal parts model and warrior but if she didn’t get out of the sun soon she’d be part lobster too. 

“If this asshole doesn’t learn how to drive in the next five minutes,” Lizzie says, looking over at Josie seriously. “Ram them.”

Josie laughs for the first time in hours, “I’m not going to ram them, Lizzie. I am seriously contemplating swerving off this freeway though.”

“Uh, no. We are not Thelma and Louise-ing ourselves. How much longer?”

“Not much,” Josie tells her, eyes flickering to the gps on her phone. “If we could just start moving.”

* * *

There is this image of Los Angels that Josie has had in her mind since she was a little girl. 

The one that movies and television shows have practically painted on every canvas in their viewers mind. The City of Angels. The Promised Land. The breeding grounds for the rich and famous. Josie imagined pristine skyscrapers and spectacular graffiti at every corner. 

Everyone in designer clothes hanging around expensive bars. It’s not like that at all. Well, okay, a lot of those assumptions about LA are accurate. Trimmed palm trees and luxury vehicles do line the streets with well-groomed lawns in a uniformed fashion. So some places are as beautiful as Josie imagined. 

Just not where they’re living. 

North of downtown, tucked away behind the main city is where Josie and Lizzie are destined to reside. The buildings are all post modern and bland. Bright green moss growing in every crack and hole from the concrete sidewalks to the towering ceilings. Trash lingers everywhere as well. The residents seem to have a horrible littering problem and an overcrowding issue. 

The streets are lined bumper to bumper with vehicles, even in the red zones. There isn’t a parking garage anywhere near their complex either. It takes them three laps around the block to find a place to park. Just one more reason not to have brought the car. Josie has never hated her vehicle so much before. 

“I thought you said the apartments had private parking,” Josie asks as she finally steps out of the vehicle and stretches out her stiff limbs. 

“I thought they did,” Lizzie shrugs, following her out of the car and smiling when Josie gives her a pointed look. “Who cares, Jo? We’re in L.A. We fucking made it!”

And then she’s jumping on Josie, wrapping her long legs around her sister and squealing in excitement. Josie stumbles, the height difference between her and Lizzie alone enough to make her nearly drop them both to the sidewalk. She stays upright though and joins her sister’s celebration, glad to finally be here as well. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t go home. She’s one step closer to actually doing this. 

They don’t hold each other for long before realizing how sweaty they both are and how hot it still is. 

“Okay,” Lizzie groans, peeling herself away from Josie. “That’s enough of that.”

The air around them smells like take-out, not a specific kind just sort of like them all jumbled together and served right there on the street. Not surprising when you live behind a chain of restaurants. Josie squints against the bright rays of sun light and tries to follow her phone’s navigation back to their apartments. Even when she thinks she’s found it, she isn’t sure. It’s tricky, when all the buildings look the same and there are so many entrances near one another. 

Josie would ask for help from one of the many pedestrians they pass on the side walk but she notices that they seem to be actively avoiding eye contact. Which is fine, Josie wasn’t expecting to be moving to Pleasantville or anything but it’s still odd to see people so standoff-ish. It certainly isn’t like that at home, where everyone knows everyone and there’s almost always a smile on someone’s face. It makes her home sick again, like the traffic, and her stomach twists with anxiety.

She turns towards her sister, “What’s the complex called again?”

“The Mancer. I’ll just message the manager,” Lizzie says, already half way through a text. “He’s suppose to meet us anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Josie sighs, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. “An hour ago, we’re late.”

It’s then the door to the left suddenly swings open and a tall young man walks out. He is built like a tank with a jaw that could cut steel. His dark complexion glistens underneath the California sun with a thin sheen of sweat. He’s all angular features topped with short dark hair. He’s dressed in athletic wear with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

He is incredibly handsome, something Lizzie must of noticed as well because she doesn’t hesitate to strike up a conversation.

“Excuse me,” she calls but he doesn’t stop.

He walks by and Lizzie darts right in his way, waving a little to get his attention. He looks alarmed and yanks out his earphones, something Josie hadn’t even realized he was wearing. He smiles a bit awkwardly, full lips pulling up in one corner, revealing just a hint of teeth. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie laughs, scratching at the spot behind her ear. “We’re new and lost. We’re looking for The Mancer apartments? Could you maybe, tell us which door leads up there?”

She finishes the question off with a gentle touch to his thick bicep and quick flutter of her eyelashes. Josie rolls her eyes. Her sister’s flirting usually works but only because she’s pretty, even when she’s sunburnt. The girl has no tact. 

“Sure,” he shrugs. “It’s the third door down. The one I just came out of.”

Josie can actually see the gears turning in her sister’s head. The way her eager blue eyes light up with excitement. The way her body language seems to just shift forward, as though becoming physically more drawn to the handsome stranger. She sees an opportunity and it’s rare for Lizzie to pass those up.

“Oh,” she smiles, squeezing the hand that’s still on his arm. “I guess we’ll be neighbors then. I’m Lizzie.”

“Rafael,” he introduces himself back, glancing over at Josie. 

It takes her a moment to realize that’s her cue, “Oh! I’m Josie.”

“It’s nice to meet both of you. Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yeah!” Lizzie calls out even though he’s already walking away and putting his earphones back in. “Can’t wait!”

“He probably thinks we’re idiots,” Josie mumbles but her sister either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t care.

She’s watching him still, fascinated. Not romantically of course, it’s more like a predator with it’s prey. Sizing up it’s meal, determining if it’s worth the hunt or not. Lizzie’s always looked at boys as a sort of game. How many can she collect or how long does she want to keep them around?

Josie knows it’s just her defense mechanism. Lizzie’s pasts experiences have convinced her that no one is ever going to love the real her. So she pushes everyone away before they can hurt her. It’s painful to watch but Lizzie’s certain it’s the only way to stay ahead. Josie wishes she could persuade her otherwise but she isn’t even entirely sure what race Lizzie is running in. 

“Dibs,” Lizzie calls before turning on her heels and marching to their new home. 

Apparently Rafael is worth the hunt. 

“All yours,” Josie says as she follows her sister through the doorway.

There is no lobby, just a small space in front of an elevator that has caution tape hanging from it’s corners. It doesn’t really look broken just dusty from what Josie can only assume is a long period of not being used. Luckily there’s also a heavy duty door with a keypad on the handle. Judging by the sign hanging above it leads to a stairwell. Guess her legs are going to get a nice work out living here. 

The side of the room is completely covered with thin metal lockers, the numbers signifying they’re mailboxes. Lizzie’s is going to have a hard time ordering so much stuff online. 

Lizzie’s phone dings, “Chad says he’s on his way down.”

“Who’s Chad?”

“The manager.”

Josie continues looking around. The white walls seem aged, faded from the harsh sunlight seeping in through the windows. The paint is chipped and it’s hard not to focus on it considering there isn’t any art or decor around. There is a tall plant in the corner though, only half alive, straining upwards towards whatever sunlight it can find. It’s dark green with leaves that spread out like an umbrella. 

There’s also a paper framed and posted near the door. She walks closer out of pure curiosity. It’s a legal document just stating the legitimacy of the communal apartment complex—

COMMUNAL APARTMENT COMPLEX?!

Her eyes drag over the words several times because that’s not right? She scans through the rest of the document quickly to ensure its a mistake but it isn’t. It’s listed several times throughout the paper. The terms and regulations all addressed as such. To Josie’s absolute horror, there is no mistake. Lizzie got them an apartment in a commune. 

She whirls around and Lizzie must sense something is wrong because she steps back and asks, “What?”

“These are communal apartments, Lizzie!”

By the abundance of facial expressions her sister goes through Josie knows that she isn’t sure how to react. Lizzie’s mouth opens and closes several times, but no words escape her. Anger and impatience whirl around inside Josie like a typhoon. Of course something like this would happen. This is what she gets for allowing Lizzie sole control of finding a place to stay. 

She thought she was saving herself from stress by letting Lizzie take over but she never even considered how royally her sister could screw them. 

“Lizzie!” She snaps because her sister has yet to supply her with any explanation other then wild hand gestures and strange looks. 

“You said to find the cheapest place possible,” Lizzie tells her. “This is L.A, Josie what were you expecting?”

“Our own apartment!”

“We get our own room we only have to share—“

“The bathroom and kitchen. I know what co-living is. I can’t believe you’d do this and not tell me!”

Lizzie scoffs, “I only didn’t tell you because then you wouldn’t have come. You’d still be moping around Mystic Falls looking for a way out.”

The comment seeps deep inside Josie to a place she can’t reach to take it back out. As much as it pains her that Lizzie has used her insecurities against her and kept this from her, it hurts the most that Josie knows she’s right. Josie wouldn’t have come. Since they left she has found herself wanting to turn back at every inconvenience. This is no exception. 

Josie’s entire idea of what living in L.A would have been like continues to shatter and the image she’s piecing back together isn’t very pleasant. Communal living sounds like an actual nightmare. She’s always had to share space, she has a twin sister after all and then there was those four dreadful years in college. She was looking forward to something different. Josie is an adult now, her and Lizzie are starting their lives. 

Josie doesn’t want co-living to be part of said life. Lizzie is suppose to be the reason she makes it out in L.A. Why is she doing this?

“Lizzie, I can not live with strangers.”

“It’s just like dorms, Josie.”

“I hated the dorms!”

It’s then the heavy duty door swings open. It’s another young man, this one lengthy and pale. He looks too casual to be in charge, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. His blonde hair is combed back and his long face is as welcoming as they come. He smiles, and it’s so genuine Josie feels guilty about not returning it. 

Apparently not everyone in L.A is antisocial. 

“My name is Chad,” he rushes forward to shake both of their hands, eager like a child who’s had too much candy. “I’m the complex’s manager and it’s awesome to meet you both. You’ll fit right in.” He gestures towards them before continuing. “Which one of you is Elizabeth?”

“Lizzie,” she tells him but raises her hand to answer his question. 

He looks over at Josie, “Which makes you the lovely sister?”

“Josie,” she nods. “Sorry about being late. We’ve never been in traffic like that before.”

“Small town girls, huh?” Chad shoots a finger gun her way. “We’ll get you use to the big city soon enough. Lizzie really took care of most of the boring paperwork online so why don’t I give you guys a tour of the place and you two can just finish up the signing on the lease?”

“Sounds great,” Lizzie says and Josie forces a polite smile.

She’s going to tear into Lizzie the moment she can get her alone again. Chad steps aside and holds open the door to let both girls through. It shuts with an echo behind them, thunderous in the narrow stairwell. The steps seem to wrap around the elevator shaft, spiraling up to each individual story. 

“The Mancer is technically on the fourth floor,” Chad tells them as they begin to walk up. “We’re a communal living building on the upper floor of the Black Box Theatre and it extends to the rooftop.” 

Fourth floor? Back home a two story was impressive. Josie’s going to get a lot of leg days in here. She’s already sweaty and exhausted from just being outside and now she’s going to have to walk up these stairs a hundred times today unpacking. Or not. 

Josie is already trying to come up with a way they can find another last minute place to stay. One that isn’t communal living and has a working elevator. If Josie hates the idea of taking so many stairs every day Lizzie must want to die right now.

“What’s wrong with the elevator?” Lizzie asks, already sounding a little out of breath as they reach the second platform. 

Apparently the first one is just an emergency exit for the theater. 

“It’s been broken for years,” Chad explains. “We don’t have any handicapped tenants so the owner of the building just never funded for it to get fixed. But don’t worry, you totally get use to the stairs.”

Josie can’t imagine ever getting use to anything in L.A.

* * *

The tour is short and rather full of surprises. Josie’s favorite being when she noticed, or rather felt, the cool air from inside hit her. She had leaned her head back, letting the refreshing air consume her. It was the only sort of relief she had felt since she step foot in this unforgiving city. Lizzie had reacted much the same.

“Oh thank god,” she moaned, arms stretched out like she was trying to hug the cold air. “California is so hot!”

Chad had laughed at them, “Yeah, we’ve got A.C’s running throughout the communal floor and in each loft you have your own thermostat. So don’t worry about that.”

Admittedly, the rest of the complex looks decent, at least a lot better than Josie was expecting. Not just because the outside practically looks abandoned but because for what they would be paying in L.A Josie was preparing for actual cardboard walls. There’s a simplicity to the building, so much left open for interpretation. Josie has to stop herself on several occasions from imagining how her and Lizzie could add their own personal touches around the complex. The pros do not out weigh the cons in this particular situation. 

Especially when they see more of the tenants around. There isn’t much, barely anyone is home, but enough to make for an awkward encounter in the bathrooms. Some people were just too comfortable with themselves and nudity. It just enforces the stigmas already swirling around in Josie’s mind. She’d walk out right now if it wasn’t for Chad. 

It isn’t just his attire that lacks formality. Her first impression of the manager was pretty accurate. The man is deliriously overzealous, Josie doesn’t even know how someone can have so much energy. Not that she’s complaining, she needs a distraction to keep from mauling her sister. He’s just so passionate about every little thing and it’s admirable. 

He obviously loves looking over The Mancer. He talks like he’s lived here all his life and the tenants are his family. Lizzie looks absolutely bored out of her mind as he continues to drone on but Josie prefers him to the stand off people she’d seen on the streets. Maybe when they found a new place he could still be their first friend in L.A. He doesn’t leave them alone again until they get to their supposed loft. 

It’s long, larger then Josie was expecting, nestled up on the fourth floor.

“And here it is!” Chad emphasizes, twirling around in a grand gesture. “I’ll give you guys a minute to get a feel for the place and if you have any questions just let me know.”

The moment the door closes behind him Lizzie is turning towards Josie, “Dibs on Energizer Bunny.”

Josie’s eyebrows furrow, “He’s the manager and you couldn’t have seemed less interested.”

“Should have called dibs if you wanted him, Jo.”

Lizzie paces around. Her shoes squeak on the wooden floor. The rooms mostly built on drywall, painted a deep sage color and the ceiling is so high Josie could stand on Lizzie’s shoulders and still have room for another.

“Look at that view!” Lizzie says too loudly, making her voice echo in the empty loft.

With a sigh she walks closer to her sister, near the side of the room where it’s nothing but glass windows, overlooking the outlandish city. The sun is still high but it’s descending, kissing the tops of the tallest buildings and turning the sky into a red and orange oil spill of colors. The sight isn’t all pretty, right below them is the street and lights, reminding Josie of the traffic, people and cars alike. The building does little to block out the noise, the city so loud compared to the forest that surrounds their childhood home. 

“See?” Lizzie asks, completely smug. “You were worried for nothing. This place is great.”

Here we go. “No, it isn’t. We should get a hotel. Look for somewhere else.”

Lizzie face falls, disappointment sweeping over every feature. Josie is ready for the fight. It’s always been this way between them. Lizzie leading the charge and Josie right on her heels. Everything is always perfect until Josie refuses to follow. When they were children it would always result in scream matches and unnecessary violence. Josie’s embarrassed to admit not much has changed. 

“What? Josie this place is practically ours all we have to do is sign the lease. It’ll take forever to find somewhere else.”

“You should have found a better place.”

“I should have—“ Lizzie goes to repeat but humorlessly laughs it off. “You put me in charge of finding a place for us for a reason. Nothing is going to be good enough for you.”

“That’s not true I just want our own space.”

“Oh please,” Lizzie rolls her eyes. “If it wasn’t the communal living it would be something else. You’ll find something to complain about everywhere we go until we end up right back home.”

“Stop saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“Lizzie,” Josie hates how pleading her voice sounds. “I don’t want to live here.”

“Well, I do!”

There’s a knock on the door. Chad’s bright face pops in a moment later.

“Well?” He asks, walking in full of bravado. “Pretty sweet, right?”

There’s a moment of silence, an awkward tension slowly pulling them all in. Chad‘s face scrunches up in confusion. Things must have seemed like they were going so well to him. Lizzie already made things seem definite, Josie blames her. Chad looks over at Josie specifically and she averts her eyes. 

She can’t handle confrontation of any kind unless it’s with family. Sometimes not even then.

Lizzie clears her throat, “That’s what I was just telling my sister.”

She reaches out but Josie slaps her hand away. It’s anything but subtle and Lizzie glares at her, probably resisting the urge to strike back. Chad notices the interaction, he has to, his bright blue eyes move back and forth between them. He doesn’t say a word but it’s obvious he’s pretty uncomfortable now. Josie feels guilty. 

He really does seem like a lovely guy just not one Josie wants to live with. He clears his throat and claps his hands together, like he’s amping himself up. 

“Are we signing the lease, ladies?”

His voice is unsure but optimistic. Josie knows he wants to add more members to The Mancer family. Lizzie looks over at her with a raised eyebrow. She’s already made her choice and once Lizzie sets her mind to something it’s nearly impossible to change it. The decision is Josie’s. 

Realistically speaking Lizzie and Josie can’t just part ways. There’s no way in hell either of them can afford to rent a place by themselves. She either lives here with Lizzie or she goes home. Which inevitably forces Lizzie to go home as well because her sister would rather prove a point then listen to Josie and look for another place. She’s stubborn like that. 

In college Josie took an ethics course. Studied the rightness or wrongness of action, the virtue or vice of character, and general matters of good and evil and how one might respond to them. She learned that there are two general domains of ethics which is ironic because the decisions in her life are usually between two choices. If she chooses to leave it’ll be for a multitude of reasons. If she chooses to stay it’s for one reason and one reason only. 

To be different. To actually chase her dream. However, the fact that life would be so much easier back in Virginia is undeniable. What kind of person does that make her though, to give up on her dream and force Lizzie with her? She wants to be different. It’s obvious what decision to make with that underlying desire. 

Defeat is far from sweet. Josie doesn’t even have to say anything, the answer must be written all over her face. Lizzie cheers, wrapping Josie up in a hug. 

“Is that a yes?” Chad asks, not familiar with silent twin communication.

“It’s a hell yes!” Lizzie says, pressing a kiss to Josie cheek.


	2. I Have Nothing To Declare Except My Genius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last chapter that the communal building/living lifestyle is 100% inspired by Good Trouble. Also it’s just a coincidence both Hope and Gael are artists. Anyway, someone asked about it and it made me think that I should probably give the show credit.

The Poet’s Paradox is a high end mixture of one too many places. It’s a bar, a restaurant, a venue, a prison. At the very least, it makes Josie feel like a prisoner. The architectural walls, fabricated from stainless steel, are like cell bars and the drunk customers (at least Josie hopes they’re drunk, she found a bag of cocaine in the restroom once) resemble angry guards. There are a dime a dozen stories of A-list celebrities who started out working jobs just like this for minimum wage or less. 

One could and most do write full autobiographies about all the progress and money made starting from nothing to soaring into opulence. Josie just wants to make music though, in every and any way. She wants to be behind that beautiful lyric on the radio, the one in the studio who comes up with the catchy melody, to be the creator of every movie’s greatest track. _She wants, she wants, she wants_. Everything, of course, except to be here. 

Josie is clumsy and shy, and perhaps that isn’t the greatest combination for a waitress. She _sucks_ at this job. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t gotten fired yet. She can’t keep up with the chaos that a full house brings and as it turns out customer service isn’t just being polite. It’s exhausting, particularly so tonight. 

The poetry slam just ended a half hour ago and now all kinds of performances are appearing on stage. The first one was a ventriloquist and Josie dropped a whole tray of drinks about five minutes into the act. The second one was a singer who belted so loud Josie couldn’t hear a damn word anyone was saying while they ordered. What she did hear, unfortunately, was all the remarks regarding her uniform. It‘s simple enough, a burgundy polo shirt with a waist apron. 

Employees are allowed to wear black pants or a skirt and Josie had chosen the ladder because it genuinely looked cuter. Apparently her skirt in particular is just a tad too short. She obviously hadn’t thought so. In fact, Josie had specifically chosen a skirt she felt was work appropriate length if only because her boss keeps calling her beautiful and she certainly isn’t going down that road. She gets that she isn’t a great employee but he needs to find something else to compliment her on. 

Josie just didn’t expect people would be so openly judgmental in L.A. She figured that was reserved for the models in magazines and stunners on the television. Things like this happened all the time back home but it was always behind people’s backs and closed doors. The people of Mystic Falls were falsely proud and painfully manipulative. They usually didn’t mess with you if you weren’t inherently important to begin with but it seems everyone is potentially gossip worthy in the city of rumors and secrets. 

The act on stage now is a different singer, a young woman in the form of a blur, brunette hair bouncing as she moves wildly up and down the stage. Her voice growly and zealous, blending with every note of the electric guitar she plays. Her lyrics roll over the audience in waves, swells of power rise up in her throat, preparing them all for the climax of the song. Her eyes closed as she belts out the final notes. Josie has three, no four, songs that this particular artist would probably sound great singing. 

The rifts Josie’s thinking of implementing into her songs would sound so raw and surreal from an artist of such obvious diverse musical background. Josie looks to the screen behind her, glowing with an awful blue lighting, and squints to see the name: Wendy Trap. Josie will have to corner her backstage later. Wendy’s covering a whole slew of upbeat songs from the eighties and Josie is thankful she‘s managed to capture everyone else’s attention too, she’s even got most people up and dancing. It leaves Josie with fewer customers to deal with. 

She’s already been yelled at too many times for her liking. The only redeeming quality of this job is that it secured her a spot anytime she wants to preform. No waiting lists or bookings, just work and you can sing. That’s what the manager had told her. Unfortunately Josie hadn’t determined that five minutes on stage a night isn’t really worth forty hours a week of dealing with people’s attitude and shitty tips. 

Josie also doesn’t get to perform until after her last break, which meant on weekdays the crowds are thinned exponentially by the time she gets up. If there is anything more anxiety inducing than performing for a large crowd it‘s performing for a handful of people. The Poet’s Paradox is set up with rows of tables facing a stage with a dance floor like area in front. It’s all dim lighting and loud speakers. The air contaminated with the smell of cheap cologne and a hundred combinations of liquor.

Not exactly Josie’s ideal performance setting but than again this isn’t Josie’s ideal job. She’s juggling seven or so cups in her arms, they’re all averaging different levels of empty and slipping from condensation. She doesn’t remember all the tables she’s grabbed them from and it’s too late to back track now. She barely makes it to the gigantic sinks behind the bar before they all burst out of her arms, flying in different directions, soaking her shirt and crashing into the sink with enough commotion to earn some stares. Her cheeks burn in embarrassment but she focuses on the task at hand. 

_Refills, refills, refills_. She had been repeating the order in her head like a never ending mantra since she collected the drinks but it’s no use. She should have written it down because now she’s forgotten and confused. 

She takes a deep breath, reminds herself that this is why they’re here. To start slow and follow their dreams. Lizzie has a paid internship in a pretty reputable fashion company and Josie is suppose to be getting her name out there to try and do the same in the music industry. She didn’t have any luck after college, a common tragic tale amongst graduates, but Lizzie convinced her Los Angles would be her place. So Josie searched the internet for hours on in and applied anywhere she could for somewhere decent to work until she stumbled upon (and settled for) The Poet’s Paradox. 

She’s only three days in and already regretting that decision. Not like she has much of a choice now, she needs to help pay rent some how. Lizzie’s internship isn’t really as high paying as she made it sound. Then again, Josie interned at a hole in the wall studio her freshman year and didn’t get paid anything at all so who is she to judge?

“You alright, Josie?” A voice suddenly asks from behind her, making her jump a little in surprise.

“Yeah,” she lies, patting herself dry with a handful of napkins. She turns around to see one of the many other waiters. He’s a nice man, probably in his early twenties, with a large build and kind smile. His light complexion practically glows underneath the soft neon lights in the Poet’s Paradox and the colors reflect in his black-rimmed glasses. His name is Wess, or Wyatt, or is it _Wayne?_ “Just having a moment.”

He laughs, “You seem like you’re having a whole night. Why don’t you go home early? I’ll cover your section.”

Josie blinks, “What? No. I can’t do that to you. Besides I still need to sing.”

“Of course you can. And do you really think you should perform tonight? You’re all frazzled and not so dazzled. Go home. You need to relax and I need the extra tips.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You can make it up to me another time. I know the first few days are hard.”

“If it’s not too much could you give Wendy Trap my number before she goes too? I want to talk to her about some songs I wrote.”

“No problem.”

She smiles, “Thanks Wayne, I really appreciate it.”

He frowns, “It’s Wade.”

_Dammit._

* * *

For the first time since she’s moved in Josie finds herself on the rooftop of The Mancer, leaning over the thin, metal railing that lines the edges of the roof. Her hands grasp the cool bars, anchoring herself to the solitude she’s found on this particularly breezy night. There are no other tenants present on the rooftop, the only light coming from inside the pool, shimmering through the gentle motions of the water. Miscellaneous outdoor furniture wraps around the pool like an outer shell, Josie had nearly tripped on a few of them and the natural stone tile beneath her feet is a stunning checkerboard of dark colors. There’s a single loft that sits tucked away in the corner, it’s about three times the size of Josie and Lizzie’s, but even with the curtains closed it appears to be dark and temporarily unoccupied.

Josie’s all by herself. 

By the time she had gotten home, ascended those notorious stairs that make her hamstrings scream, she realized Lizzie wasn’t home. A quick text got her confirmation that her sister is out with some other tenants she recently befriended and Josie tries not to be too jealous. It shouldn’t be a surprise that she’s ended up by herself. Her sister doesn’t necessarily make friends easy but Lizzie has always had a knack for getting her way. 

They’ve been here for little less than a week and Josie still treats this place more like a motel than a home and looking at the city from this point of view doesn’t help. It makes her feel as adventurous as it does alone. She’s two thousand five hundred and twenty-five miles away from the one place she’s always known. Thirty seven hours to drive, eight hundred and forty-four hours to walk, or two hundred and twenty-two hours to bike. She knows. She’s googled it. Multiple times. 

Last week it seemed worth it, like she was different, chasing a dream that’s always been just out of reach in her hometown. She doubted it the day they moved in but convinced herself that was the hard part. That it was the only hurdle in a race to her happiness but she was very wrong. There are many, _many_ more hurdles to come, there always are, and Josie already feels too tired to finish the race. She sighs and rakes a hand through her hair. 

Nights in a sprawling Southern California city are not nearly as exciting as Josie always dreamed they would be. It’s times like these where Josie does actually care about money. A more materialistic part of her wants the luxury that L.A promises, opportunities to shine like the stars that line the red carpet rather than the galaxy. It’s not what she dreams about, it isn’t what drives her, but it’s still nice to play pretend every once in awhile. At least reality still has nice scenery.

The view from the rooftop puts the one from their loft to shame. Unlike Josie, the city is bright and thriving, the dark settling in only for the town to be relit by it’s endless supply of lights. She feels like she can see _everything_. 

Every freeway and street light, every stop sign and moving vehicle, every building and house in L.A seemingly in sight. A society that once felt so distant is spread out below her and Mystic Falls has never felt so small. The shops and restaurants around The Mancer are hustling and bustling. L.A is full of late night dinner eaters and people who never sleep. The outside world is noisy too, like a metropolitan symphony of car horns, shouting pedestrians and the vibrant hum of electricity.

The cityscape is unapologetically urban. There are no trees or city planted blooms, just endless rows of streets and sidewalks intersecting, creating a near perfect grid pattern as far as Josie’s eyes can see. Tiny vehicles the size of specs rush along those lines, weaving and twisting threads of colors together. Buildings collide in a mixture of shadows and geometry, they all come together in a mess of a dream. A breathtaking, unexplored, frightening dream that makes Josie feel like some small, insignificant thing. 

The city seems endless, wide and free and she finds herself wanting to jump right off the edge and submerge herself into the city. Not the actual city, of course, not the realistic one she can’t afford. No, she wants the one she dreamed of as a child, the one the city of lights painted for her.

“Can I help you?” A voice suddenly asks, making Josie jump about a foot in the air. 

She clutches at her chest, willing her heart to slow down. She turns and knows, instantly and without a doubt, that certainly isn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

The woman in front of her looks like the inspiration to every artist’s greatest creation. Even Josie would draw her, with what little talent she has, if that was the only to capture such a sight. She’s built like a dream, a whole world of beauty condensed into a short hourglass figure. Her hair falls down her back in waves, the roof top lights just bright enough for Josie to see the tiniest hint of auburn strands. Her eyes are bright, practically luminescent orbs of contradicting swirls of blue. 

Her skin looks smooth like marble, with sculpted perfect angles and features so sharp Josie could cut her fingers if she ever dared to touch her. She also looks a little angry. Beautiful and angry. It takes Josie by surprise and she gulps down her immediate attraction. 

“Oh, uh—“

The stunning woman crosses her arms and quirks a carefully plucked eyebrow, “The pool is closed after 10 o’clock.”

“Sorry,” Josie manages to get out. “I didn’t know.”

The woman stares at her for a moment, suddenly taking her in, perhaps for the first time. Bright eyes bounce back and forth across Josie’s own features and Josie can’t help but look away and fidget with her hands. She’s obviously being judged and every self conscious thought she’s ever had suddenly bangs against the curve of her skull, steady and cruel, a harsh beat of insecurity. 

“Are you someone’s guest?” The rooftop beauty asks, voice softer this time around. 

“No,” although that is how it seems. Like Lizzie lives here and Josie is just the guest in her life. “My sister and I just moved in a few days ago.”

The woman’s eyes widen, “ _You’re_ Lizzie’s sister?”

Josie hesitates, mouth pressed in a firm, unsure line. When people say it like _that_ , it’s usually never a good sign. 

“Yeah?”

The woman actually laughs a little. Josie’s ears barely catch the sound before it fades away but her eyes see the smile and she can’t help but notice how perfect it seems to be. How perfect this woman seems to be. It’s almost unrealistic, like the two of them are living in two completely different dimensions, colliding for this one interaction if only to allow Josie to be in awe. 

“I’m Hope.”

Oh. _Oh_. Josie hasn’t seen Hope Mikaelson in person before now but boy has she heard about her. Apparently she’s a big deal at The Mancer and Lizzie was not impressed because Josie was subjected to at least a forty-five minute rant about all the ways she ‘wasn’t that great’. Which really, just looking at her now, Josie already has to disagree with. 

“I’m Josie.”

“Sorry for the hostility. It’s just that I live up here all by myself and having people wandering around all night makes me uneasy.” 

“Oh yeah,” Josie waves it off. “Totally understandable. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I can only imagine what you’ve heard about me already.”

A sudden breeze hits them just right and Josie shivers for probably the first time since she’s been in California. Hope notices and doesn’t hesitate to shrug off her elegant coat that is so obviously out of Josie’s own price range. Josie doesn’t even have time to protest before Hope Mikaelson is draping the plaid material around her shoulders, enveloping her in cottony warmth and a jasmine and safon scent. Josie feels heat bloom in her chest and spread all the way up into the very roots of her hair. No one has ever actually used the jacket move on her before, certainly not a stranger who looked ready to fight her just a moment ago. She eyes the outfit Hope has on underneath, a sleeveless blouse and skin tight jeans with ankle boots to match. 

All of them look simple enough but they’re too pristine around the edges. Josie can tell they’re all designer, even if she doesn’t know the name. Hope Mikaelson looks ready to interrupt a business meeting with her own brilliant idea meanwhile Josie is still in her waitressing uniform. She’s dealing with a real high end L.A girl here. Luxurious. 

She’s rich, at least so Josie has heard. Her parents buy her everything she could ever ask for, never worked a hard day in her life, and looks down at everyone who doesn’t fit in her tax bracket. A real uppity bitch, according to Lizzie anyway. Her sister is never a very good source of information though. Her facts are always a little too intertwined with her opinions. Most of the time it’s better for Josie to see things for herself. 

“Thank you,” she says, tugging the coat around her tighter. “And yeah it’s cool. I haven’t heard anything.”

Hope quirks an eyebrow again but this one seems more out of amusement. At the time Josie just wanted her sister to shut up but now she’s genuinely curious as to what happened between the two. 

“I’d like to believe that but even if your sister isn’t one to gossip I know the rest of the tenants here are.”

“I haven’t heard anything of importance,” Josie reiterates with a shrug. “Besides Chad I think you’re the first one I’ve actually had a chance of speak to.”

It’s the truth. She usually sleeps for most of the morning and is up and about when most of the other tenants are gone. She uses any excuse she can not to be here and then works much later in the night. Her time spent in the bathroom is limited to nothing but pure necessities and the kitchen has never really been her domain anyway. Lizzie usually makes sure Josie comes back to dinner wrapped up, stored away in the fridge, a sticky note with her name on it.

It all leaves little time for interactions with the strangers she lives with and up until this point that’s what Josie thought she wanted.

“Alright,” Hope smiles. “I actually have a chance at leaving a good first impression for once.”

“You don’t want me to go?”

Hope shakes her head, “Not if you don’t want to.”

Having Hope Mikaelson’s attention feels different to Josie. It leaves a few questions dancing around the ballroom that is her mind. Like why does she keep referring to Hope by her full name? The girl isn’t some kind of celebrity. Except, star struck is exactly how she makes Josie feel. 

There’s something unreal about her, something that separates them, something more than just the different amount of income they bring home. 

“Do you go to school out here?” Hope asks, making herself comfortable next to Josie.

“Oh no. I just graduated last spring. My sister and I are just chasing the dream. As silly as that probably sounds.”

Hope shakes her head, “Not at all. I’m an artist. I totally get it. L.A is the place to go.”

Hope Mikaelson probably has enough money to get herself noticed anywhere in the world. L.A isn’t a necessity for her but if even she felt like it would help her chances coming out here than maybe there is luck for Josie after all. There is just _so many_ dreamers flocking here for the exact same reason, all trying to hop on the exact same train and there is only so many seats. This city is the center of the nation’s film and television industry, anyone who wants to be anyone is either here or in New York. Josie isn’t sure if she’s special enough to be noticed in a crowd of people who look just like her. 

“Do you go to school out here?” Josie asks right back, mostly just trying to get a gauge on Hope’s age. 

She can’t be anywhere near thirty, her skin is too young, void of wrinkles and full of rosy color. She’s definitely older than Josie though. You can tell just by how she carries herself. Although that could also just be the first class attitude that’s probably been breed into her. 

“Tried to. College and I didn’t really get along. I always seemed to have too much going on.”

“But you’ve lived out here awhile?”

“A few years,” Hope answers, shoving her hands in the pocket of her jeans and Josie hopes she isn’t cold herself now. “The internet makes everything accessible but it’s nice to just live in the heart of it. Everything you need to make it is just a taxi drive away.”

The mention of any sort of driving still makes Josie cringe. Traffic never seems to relent and she’s been using the car out of nothing but pure spite of herself. They really didn’t need that thing. Lizzie has taken a liking to the massive metro that seems to go through every nook and cranny of the city. Josie should probably just sell the car and do the same.

“What’s your favorite part about L.A so far?” Hope reels her back in. “Mine is the tourists. Millions of people from all over the world bring their language and culture and just cram them all into one place. I feel like I’m constantly traveling and learning new things all without ever actually leaving home.”

Josie certainly hasn’t thought about it that way. The number of people flooding in and out of her new city have been nothing but a new and overwhelming inconvenience to her. She’s been thinking of them as traffic and long lines but perhaps that’s because she’s been viewing them all with pessimistic eyes. Which is rather unlike herself. She really hasn’t been herself since coming to California though. 

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I haven’t really explored much. Just work and home lately.”

“What?” Hope looks appalled. “We have to change that.”

The ‘we’ makes Josie smile but their small talk doesn’t last much longer. The door to the rooftop suddenly bangs open and someone comes strutting out much louder than Hope had, like they’re going out of their way to make an entrance. They’re cloaked in darkness for only a moment before the lights catch on them and shadows dance around to make room. It’s another woman, a young one, dressed in distressed jeans and an off shoulder top. A matching ribbon of sorts tied around her throat. 

She’s propped up in heels that give her short stature a few more inches and click loudly against the rooftop floor as she approaches them with undeniable purpose. She stares directly at Josie, eyeing her up and down and it’s anything but subtle. Josie feels the bangs against her skull again, falling right back into rhythm with that beat of insecurity.

“You the new arm candy?” she asks Josie, voice all smokey and tantalizing but then turns to Hope. “Cos’ I have to admit, I’m impressed with this one.”

Josie blinks once, twice, and realizes that she’s being called out and complimented all at once and she isn’t sure how to take that. 

“Well,” Hope’s smile suddenly appears to be terribly forced. “If it isn’t The Mancer’s very own She-Devil. Sorry, no time for bitchy banter.”

“Oh baby,” the new woman reaches forward and brushes some hair behind Hope’s ear, quick and smooth, a move that has certainly had some practice. “There’s always time for bitchy banter.” 

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I thought so,” she sighs, pushing her way past Hope. “But you already have company.”

She leans her back against the railing next to Josie, elbows propped up on the bars, looking more comfortable being the center of attention than Josie ever could. Up close Josie can see that the other woman is just as attractive as Hope but it’s different. Her beauty is twisted, intertwined with mystery and danger. One look at her and it’s obvious only a fool would fall in love. Her dark hair is short, curled, brushing along her shoulders as closely as one toes the line before making a bad decision. 

Her eyes are decorated in streaks of eyeliner canted up at the corner and there’s a coat of lipstick applied with equally deadly precision, a lovely shade somewhere between enchanting and hypnotic. And . . . is she wearing a cape? Like Hope, this woman makes Josie feel as insecure as she does captivated. 

“Well,” she looks over at Josie again. “Since Hope apparently has no manners I’ll introduce myself. I’m Penelope, her ex girlfriend.”

“Ex fiancé,” Hope corrects her, crossing her arms over her chest, a move she apparently does often. “One that desperately needs to move out of my apartment building.”

Penelope shrugs, “What’s the point? It’s just a temporary break.”

“It’s been a year.”

“Please, I was in your bed last week.”

Josie blushes and pulls at the collar of her polo. Is it suddenly warm out here? She’ll have to give Hope her coat back. 

“Anyway,” Hope drawls out. “Penelope this is Josie. She’s a new tenant. She’s Lizzie’s sister, actually.”

“Who?”

“The blonde fashionista? They moved down the hall from M.G?”

“Ah,” Penelope nods. “Yeah, I remember.”

She sounds about as impressed with Lizzie as Hope did. They’ve no doubt had their own little run in and Josie just knows, from what little she’s learned about Penelope, that it probably wasn’t a good interaction either. Neither Hope or Penelope seem to have weak personalities and at first that makes it easy to clash with Lizzie’s massive one. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Penelope says, and Josie gets a little lost in the sight of her. She’s close, closer than strangers usually stand, and all of L.A’s sudden purpose of existence is to be a back drop for this woman. A thousand little lights making her glow like some kind of super nova. “How are you liking The Mancer so far?”

Josie just keeps staring, not realizing she actually has a chance to speak until she notices that both of their attention is strictly on her. 

“Oh,” she panics. “I’m fine. I mean, it’s fine. The place, the building, is . . . it’s all fine.”

“Fuck,” Penelope curses (the sound oddly appealing to Josie) and drops her head back on her shoulders, aiming her next words towards the starless sky. “When you’re not with me you really have a type don’t you Hope?”

Hope actually face palms. Josie doesn’t know her yet but she thinks something about it looks so childish on her.

“Why do you always jump to that conclusion? Josie and I literally just met.”

Penelope shrugs, “It’s always obvious with you.”

“Forgive her, Josie. She seems to think everyone would want to date me.”

Because who wouldn’t?

“They do,” Penelope echoes her thoughts. “I’m just the prettiest option. Or well—“ she looks over at Josie again. “I was.”

Josie chest tightens as the words slowly wrap around her heart. Is she flirting with Josie or saying that she feels threatened? Josie can’t get a read on either of these women. Even Hope’s jacket move awhile ago could be chalked up to simple kindness. It leaves Josie with a new slew of internal issues. 

Josie herself is far too cautious to find out. 

Because that’s the thing with flirting, isn’t it? It’s leaves you vulnerable. You have to admit that you want this person and in return you want them to want you. Metaphorically dropping your shield in the middle of a battle, praying for victory but preparing for defeat. It’s one of the most anxiety inducing things Josie can think of participating in. 

She doesn’t take rejection well and even when things do go in the direction she wants them too it’s never at a speed she can control. Flirting, especially with girls like this, is foreign and dangerous and like waitressing Josie absolutely sucks at it. Hope and Penelope both seem like the wildest of wild cards anyway and Josie isn’t ready to play any of her own. She’ll just sit here quietly and a little awkwardly like she has been. 

Hope gives Penelope a pointed look.

She just rolls her eyes, “What? You can flirt with the new girl but I can’t?”

_Oh_.

“I wasn’t flirting!”

Oh.

“Why not? Are you blind?”

Hope scoffs, “No, some of us just like to take our time.”

_Oh_.

Josie is going to get whiplash. Normally having people speak about her like she isn’t there is the most insufferable thing but she’s finding it very flattering right now. It’s overwhelming, really. Josie is at a loss with these two beautiful strangers.

“Hear that?” Penelope suddenly asks, bumping her shoulder playfully against Josie’s. “She wants to take her time with you Josie.”

It’s the way she says it, all slow and sensual and teasing that has Josie’s face in flames in seconds. Hope isn’t much better. In fact, she’s worse. Much, much worse. She looks like a squashed, angry, tomato coming to life with the soul purpose of murdering Penelope. 

“God,” Hope rubs at her temples. “Will you just, no, just shut up.”

In a matter of minutes Penelope has completely reduced Hope to a blushing, bumbling mess and Josie can’t say she’s upset about it. Hope struck Josie as someone who is always cool, calm and collected but this part of her is adorable. That maturity she seemed to carry so effortlessly feels like a facade now and Penelope is breaking through it with ease. Josie feels something inside of her chest blossom at being apart of making her this way. At being part of anything. 

“So where are you from Josie?” Penelope asks, like she wasn’t just insinuating that her ex fiancé wanted to have sex with Josie. 

“Um,” Josie clears her throat, still struggling to form full sentences. “Is it that obvious I’m not from here?”

“Very,” they both reply in unison and it’s odd for Josie to be on this side of it. As twins Lizzie and her do things like that all the time but Penelope and Hope are a whole different ball game. 

“Virginia,” Josie says. “In a small town called Mystic Falls.”

Penelope whistles. 

“That’s a pretty big move,” Hope says. “I came from New Orleans, so I get it.”

Hope seems to get a lot of things about her. 

“What about you, Penelope?”

“I’m a California girl,” Penelope smiles. “Daisy dukes, bikinis on top, all that. But I did spend a few years in Louisiana. That’s where I met this idiot.”

“Tch,” Hope clicks her tongue. “I had a 4.0 by the time we graduated. Last time I checked we had to beg the headmaster not to hold you back.”

Penelope flips her hair, “Minor details.”

Josie smiles at them. She misses this kind of silly banter. Lizzie is a constant in her life but she’s about the only one. In high school everyone knew everyone. It was a small town with small town problems. 

Drama was always on the forefront of every group of friends. In college friends came and went too often. They all get so wrapped up in their school work and personal lives that it’s easy to not have time for others. Even Josie’s ex boyfriend was more of a warm body towards the end than genuine company. Now, with these two, on this rooftop in the middle of L.A, she’s reminded of what it’s like to want to be around people. 

It’s so lonely inside your own head. 

“I was uh, pretty good in school,” Josie volunteers information for the first time, visually surprising both of her companions. “Straight A’s through high school and college although I was legally suspended during my junior year at Whitmore.”

Penelope gasps, playfully slapping Josie’s arm. “You little rebel you. What did you do?”

Penelope sure is touching her a lot. She tries to focus on the question. “Lizzie’s ex cheated on her and she thrashed his car. I just took the blame for it.”

Hope laughs, “We definitely know who the nice one is.”

“Lizzie’s the best person I know. She’s just not the best at showing it.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Penelope says. “No offense of course but I was only talking to your sister for a whole four minutes before she started listing off all the ways my outfit was not ‘for me’.”

Josie smiles nervously, the corners of her lips trembling the way they always do in these situations. It’s uncomfortable defending the person that everyone else seems to dislike but she can’t allow people to think that way. Well, she doesn’t actually have much choice in the matter, she can’t dictate people’s opinions but she can try and change them. Of course, her success rate on that isn’t very good. Perhaps she should have taken more debate classes in college. 

“Fashion doesn’t count. Lizzie’s passion often overrides her better judgement.”

“And what about you, Josie?” Hope asks.

“What about me?”

Penelope reaches out and puts a hand on Josie’s arm, her touch is firm this time, lingering and even through Hope’s coat it makes Josie play with her fingers again. She can’t remember the last time she’s felt like this. 

Penelope smiles, like she can see the effect she has and finishes Hope’s question. “What are you passionate about?”

And that’s all it takes. They talk for _hours_. The world below them slowly fading away and becoming nothing more than a rooftop with a population of three. Josie tells them all about music and Hope all about art and although Penelope works in business she cracks a joke about her only passion being between Hope’s legs. It earns her a half hearted slap to the chest. 

They brush over easy topics like favorites and likes vs. dislikes but eventually they teeter into more dangerous territory like politics and faith. Josie finds even when she’s disagreeing with them it still doesn’t feel like an argument and whatever grades they may have gotten in school don’t reflect their actual intelligence because they both speak with fearlessness and facts that seem to just roll off their tongues. It helps that they all disagree on topics, never once does it seem that two agree and a third is left to flounder at sea. Before Josie knows it she’s effortlessly joining their banter, no more hesitation laced through every sentence or stammering messes that trip her up. She’s still nervous, it’s hard not to be with these two but the buzzing it leaves in her nerves no longer feels like anxiety. 

It feels like pure and uncontrollable excitement.

It actually pains her when she says, “I should probably get going.”

Hope pouts, “Already?”

Josie’s heart soars. Something has shifted in the short time they’ve spent together tonight. These strangers have settled into a special spot reserved for all the maybes in Josie’s life. They eradicated her desire for isolation in less than a day. Lifted her from a rut she hadn’t even known she was in. They carry so many possibilities between them.

Josie takes her phone out of her back pocket and checks the time. The brightness is up way too high and the giant white numbers stare back at her in warning. She would have been off work hours ago even if Wade hadn’t covered for her. It’s getting really late and she’s pretty tired. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Let her go Hope,” Penelope says over dramatically, falling into Hope’s arms like a fainting woman in an old black and white sitcom. “If she comes back it means she’s ours forever.”

Josie fidgets at the word ‘ours’. The simple thought of it would be absolutely scandalous back in Mystic Falls but in L.A she’s sure that it runs in a lane closer to normalcy. Or not. She isn’t sure if that’s even really what Penelope meant or if she’s just teasing again. It’s all so strange to Josie. 

Hope shakes her head, “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

Penelope twists in Hope’s arms, wrapping her own around the red head’s neck and pulling their bodies flush together. It’s sinful really, how hot the simple embrace makes Josie. They just look so good together, it makes her mouth a little dry. They’re the exact same height but with Penelope’s heels she has the higher ground. They perfectly contradict. 

Hope’s light skin tone radiating against Penelope’s darker one, the girl a lovely mix of ethnicities. They’re all long limbs and deep eye contact. 

“You love me anyway,” Penelope says.

Josie’s heart stops when Penelope closes her eyes and begins to lean in. Hope, for all her cruel words earlier, doesn’t hesitate to do the same. They kiss like what Josie assumes the sun colliding with the moon would look like. Beautiful and disastrous, a blinding explosion. Penelope’s bright red lips dominate as their mouths slide against one another. 

Josie feels like she’s intruding instantly but can’t bring herself to look away. She wants to sear this image into her brain for all eternity. Hope’s hands grip at Penelope’s hips, fingers pressing in so tight it bunches her shirt. One of Penelope’s hands tugs at Hope’s hair, pulling her head back, exposing more of her long neck. They’re so close to Josie still, close enough she can hear their breathing catch and change, close enough she can see the electricity that keeps bringing their lips back together. 

Her stomach clenches as Penelope tilts her head and Josie catches the briefest sight of tongues brushing. 

Hope pulls back, “Don’t even think about it. I’m tired.”

Penelope doesn’t miss a beat, “Well, Josie, since I’m apparently unwelcome here mind if I walk down with you?”

Josie feels dizzy. She has so many questions. Is Hope playing hard to get? Is this kind of push and pull normal between them? That’s what being unwelcome looks like to Penelope? 

She’s still in Hope’s arms after all, a little breathless but not nearly as flustered as Hope looks. She’s looking right at Josie, lipstick a little smudged but somehow that makes her even more beautiful. Hope is panting a little, seemingly looking everywhere _except_ at Josie. 

“Uh, sure.”

Penelope uses a single finger to wipe away the lipstick that has gone astray and says, “Fantastic.”

Josie doesn’t even know what she’s referring to at this point. She’s too busy already replaying the kiss over and over again in her head. Now that was fantastic.

She turns to Hope, “Thanks for letting me stay up here.”

She still won’t quite look Josie in the eye but she grabs at her wrist, pulls her into a surprise hug and says, “Anytime Josie.”

Her touch is more surprising than Penelope’s. Only one arm wraps around Josie’s midsection, Hope keeps her other hand on Josie’s wrist, her touch is gentle and just as soft as Josie’s suspected it would be. In return Josie holds her up higher, hand settling between strong shoulder blades and she rests her head against Hope’s, enjoying how the soft strands of hair feel against her cheek. Hope pulls away quick, parting with an awkward pat at the small of Josie’s back. She misses the red head’s touch instantly but forces a smile instead. 

Penelope leads them to the stair well and makes a bit of a show out of opening the door for Josie. She leans against the edge of it, holding onto the rusty handle, body halfway covering up the warning signs that decorate the door. She wiggles her eyebrows at Josie when she thanks her. The stairwell is simple and plain, a narrow straight shot lined with old white paint that is slowly peeling off and thin metal stairs that Josie was almost too afraid to use on her way up. 

“Don’t mind Hope,” Penelope tells her as they begin their descent and the door slams behind them. “She likes you she’s just always been a prude about PDA. She’s a little embarrassed I kissed her like that is all.”

“There’s no need to be.”

“Oh I know,” Penelope laughs. “You were staring so hard for a second I thought you were going to join.”

Josie quite literally almost trips down the stairs. If it wasn’t for her grip on the hand rail her body would have collapsed in shame. She rubs at the back of her neck, finding a suspicious amount of heat there. She has no idea what she’s suppose to say to that. How did Penelope even know? 

Their footsteps are suddenly too loud, especially Penelope’s heels, they clank against each step almost as loud as Josie’s heart beat. She can’t seem to keep up with Penelope, every time she feels comfortable around her she makes a comment that completely throws Josie for a loop. It sends her spiraling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, and Josie simply isn’t smooth enough to land on her feet. She looks over at Penelope, they’re walking side by side, the stairwell just wide enough that they have to brush their shoulders together. She glows a little differently underneath incandescent lights than she does the moon. 

Her cape bounces behind her with every step, only covering a single shoulder and not for the first time tonight Josie’s eyes trace the expose skin of her chest. Penelope’s collarbones are pretty, bare and protruding and there’s a hint of cleavage but just enough to make Josie feel guilty and look back up at her face. She looks so nonchalant while she’s bringing Josie’s world down it’s unfair. Her eyes are transfixed forward, muscles relaxed and make up still on point. She’s a little less polished than Hope, her eyebrows aren’t perfectly plucked and there are traces of acne hiding in wait but Josie would still kill to look half as good as her. 

The corner of her mouth quirks up and she says, “I guess staring is just your thing.”

Josie contemplates just throwing herself down the stairs. Anything has to be better than sitting under this microscope Penelope so bluntly uses. Now she understands Hope’s pain. Penelope has no regards for other people’s feelings of awkwardness. She must be too bold for that. 

“I’m so sorry,” Josie mumbles, it’s really the only thing she can think of. She’s been leering at Hope and Penelope and the both of them _together_ all night. She’s doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. 

Penelope eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think I understand you just yet, Josie.”

Josie has never really considered herself to be all that complex. Dorky, anxious, and music are the only three words she thinks anyone would ever really need to describe her but apparently Penelope already sees something else. Something she can’t quite put her finger on yet. The thought stirs something deep inside of Josie. She hopes they both get a chance to figure it out. 

“There’s not much to understand.”

Penelope stops in her tracks to look over at Josie, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Then she’s opening another door for Josie and they’re back at the heart of The Mancer. Everything down here is dark and quiet, almost everyone is probably asleep already. There’s only one person still out and it’s a child, by far the youngest person Josie has seen in the building so far and they’re sitting in the living room. Which to Josie is just an odd sort of space lined with an array of furniture. Chairs and couches and beanbag chairs all encompassing a wide range of games. 

There’s a pool table, a pin ball machine, and a shelf stuffed with various board games. There’s no television but there is a projector and screen mounted to the furtherest wall. Which is what the tiny tenant is currently watching. A cartoon of sorts flashing across the white screen in bright colors and high pitched voices. He watches with wide and unblinking eyes, his body almost completely submerged in one of the larger beanbag chairs with nothing but his head of curly dark hair sticking out. 

Penelope ruffles his hair as they tiptoe by and whispers, “Go to sleep, Pedro.”

Josie can’t help but find the kid adorable. She remembers being that way. Her and Lizzie would secretly stay up until the crack of dawn snacking on stolen sweets and watching romcoms their mother said were too inappropriate. It’s silly really, all the things you give up as an adult when you can still so easily do them. Perhaps somethings don’t carry the same sort of excitement they did when you’re allowed to do whatever you want to. 

Or perhaps, Josie has just fallen deeper into the trap of bitter adulthood than she thought she did. She’s focused being different solely on her career and following her dreams when maybe she should start with the smaller things in life. Like watching bad movies with her sister or staying up all night making two new friends. Josie smiles at Penelope’s back, nothing now but shadows and a dark outline, the way she was when Josie first saw her. She’ll definitely focus on the little things more. 

When they get to Josie’s hallway Penelope flicks the light on, the short passageway lighting up before them. The walls are white with brown trim, faded still but not at bad as the ground floor or the rooftop stairwell. An elegant chair and side table placed strategically in the corner, almost like a hotel Josie had stayed at one time. She isn’t sure where Penelope’s actual loft is but she knows there are only three down her hallway. One belongs to a boy with a remarkable afro apparently named M.G and the other to a girl who’s glares pierce right through Josie’s soul. 

It’s sweet Penelope has walked her all the way back. 

“So, my birthday is this weekend,” Penelope says, crossing her feet at the ankles and leaning a single, cape covered shoulder against the wall like some kind of stud from the 60’s. “A few of the other tenants and I are gonna go out and get some drinks. Want to come along?”

“Oh, uh—“

“Don’t disappoint me now,” she teases. “You can even invite your sister, if you like.”

Josie looks around the hallway, hoping to find the right words written out for her on the walls or the floor. They aren’t there. She doesn’t want to reject Penelope, doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is that could be building between them, but she also can’t say yes because well, responsibilities. 

“Hope will be there too,” Penelope smiles. “If that helps persuade you at all.”

Josie bites at her lip and ignores the way Penelope’s eyes follow the action, “I don’t need any persuading. I’d love to go. It’s just, I have work all weekend and I always get the night shifts.”

“Oh, where do you work?”

“The Poet’s Paradox. It’s like this little hipster bar type.”

“Yeah, I know the place. I think Hope’s sold them a few paintings before.”

Hope should just sell herself. The girl is a walking piece of art. Josie’s going to scan those walls from top to bottom during her next shift. It would be wonderful to see some of Hope’s pieces.

“Thank you for the invitation though. Maybe a another time?”

“Oh definitely. I’m not going to miss a single chance at getting to know you.”

She wishes Penelope would touch her, would give her a hug like Hope or something, _anything_ except leave the night open for interpretation like this. She’s a real smooth talker, all of her words carry some type of weight, some kind of meaning and the tension that some of them leave is torturous. Penelope’s eyes are bright too but unlike Hope’s there are rings of darkness in them. Equal parts emerald green and earthy brown. While Hope’s blue are like a bright light in the dark Penelope’s hazel simply shimmer in the dimly lit hallway, beckoning with temptation. 

“Goodnight, Penelope.” Josie meant it to sound confident but it comes out more like a hoarse whisper.

It makes Penelope smile none the less, “Sweet dreams, Josie.”

Josie unlocks her door, the metal hinges squeaking as she swings it open, disrupting the quiet they’ve left between them. She looks back over her shoulder at Penelope, who’s still standing in the hallway, waiting patiently for her to get inside. It’s comforting and nerve racking all at once. She can’t shake the feeling that something else still needs to be said. Her loft is just about as dark as the rest of the apartment, except they left their curtains drawn, their less impressive view of L.A shining some light. 

Josie nearly has the door closed when suddenly there’s another hand there, stopping it from closing. It’s startles her and she wildly looks around to see a mischievous looking Penelope. 

“Sorry,” she says, sounding anything but. “If I can’t see you on my birthday though, do you mind giving me an early present?”

A thousand thoughts race through Josie’s mind. At least half of them have her toes curling in anticipation. Penelope has been nothing but sexual innuendos all night, later when Josie is probably feeling guilty and a little perverted she’ll tell herself that’s why her mind jumped straight to the gutters. 

It must be the sudden spike in hormones that makes her answer back so confidently, “Not at all.”

Penelope’s crooked grin only grows. If Josie is Alice than she is most certainly The Cheshire Cat. She holds out her phone, it’s older than Josie expects it to be. It’s case-less and even cracked at the corner. She just assumed Penelope would be the type of girl all over social media. The type who needed the newest, nicest camera or maybe it was her association with Hope, rich and high end that made the old battered thing in Josie’s hand seem unlike Penelope. 

“Can I get your number?”

Josie presses her lips together the whole time she’s punching in the digits. This could all still be completely platonic but Penelope is just so flirty Josie wonders if the woman has a single casual bone in her body. Josie is still feeling daring when she puts a smiley face and a heart by her name. She has to type them using punctuation marks and numbers because Penelope’s phone doesn’t even have emojis but that’s fine. 

She gives the phone back to Penelope and their fingers brush as she takes it. She doesn’t feel butterflies but she does feel an urge _not_ to pull away. Penelope’s fingernails are short and clean, bare of any paint like Josie’s own black, chipped ones. They don’t say good night again, and Penelope doesn’t move any closer, she just gestures towards her phone and walks away like a winner from a competition. It’s been too long since Josie’s felt like an award. 

The women she’s met tonight really have reminded her of so much. She closes the door, locks the deadbolt and presses her forehead against the solid wood. The pressure against her skull keeps her grounded when she feels like flying. She can’t stop smiling, her cheeks have begun to ache with the most pleasant sort of pain. Josie could get use to this, to them, even if it is as just friends. 

Which really would make the most sense because she’s never been that lucky in her whole life. She wouldn’t even know how to handle two of them. Just the idea of the three of them together at once sounds like a joke even if it’s not one Josie wants to laugh at. She can’t believe she’s even entertaining the idea. L.A really does have a way of changing people. 

Out of the blue the door gets unlocked and before Josie can react it’s swinging open, hitting Josie square in the face. She staggers back and tries to contain the pain that radiates through every nerve in her head. Lizzie looks puzzled as she enters the loft and Josie rubs at the sore spot on her forehead.

“Ow,” she says, giving her sister a nasty look.

“Well what are you standing at the door for?”

That’s hardly relevant and Josie wants to argue but she’s happy Lizzie is back. It’s perfect timing. Their loft is quiet without her, empty too. Their walls are still a bit bare, most of their boxes still packed, no furniture to speak of yet. Just a room full of possibilities and ideas. 

“You okay?”

Josie nods, “I think so.”

Lizzie’s eyes widen.

“What?” Josie asks. “Am I bleeding?”

“No but nice fucking coat! Where did you get that?”

“Oh um,” Shit. Josie had completely forgotten she was wearing this. At least now she definitely has another reason to see Hope. 

“That’s a new RebekahxMarcellus coat. That thing costs more than our car, Josie.”

Josie suddenly feels like the material is digging daggers into her unworthy skin. She shrugs it off and hangs it up in her half of the closet, carefully, as though it’s now made of glass. She knew it was fancy she had no idea it was to that degree. 

“A friend let me borrow it,” she tells Lizzie.

“You have friends?”

“Shut up.”

It’s then Josie takes in what her sister is wearing. To most it would probably seem like she’s dressed to have a good time but nothing is that simple with Lizzie. She’s put together with purpose, ready for battle, each layer of clothing is protection for her and carefully crafted heart break for someone else. A black bra is completely visible through her sister’s mesh top, her skirt high up on her waist to allow more room for the knee high boots. Matching accessories line every spot Lizzie can fit them and her make up is done so well Josie could mistake it for war paint. 

She’s dressed to impress and fight and Josie wonders who it was that caught her attention for tonight.

“Who were you out with?”

“I told you. Just a few people from the apartment. I don’t think you’ve met them yet. It was fun though. I think you’ll like M.G. he’s sweet. Dibs on Sebastian, by the way.”

“Sebastian,” Josie nods. “Got it. Have you considered people that we don’t live with? Things are gonna start getting awkward if you actually hook up with more than one of them.”

“Oh sister, those are problems for future Elizabeth.”

Josie pulls some floss from one of her bags and gets to work. She can’t remember the last time she ate today but knowing her luck she probably had food stuck between her teeth the whole time she was talking on the rooftop. When she’s done with that she pours some water in a cup and gets ready to brush her teeth. She’s picked up a few tips and tricks to minimize her trips to the communal spaces. Although she thinks she’ll stop that. 

Maybe she’ll run into Penelope, even if it is on her way to pee. She brushes her teeth with purpose, the minty freshness making her feel ready for bed. She sheds her clothes like fall leaves and doesn’t feel like replacing them. She simply opts for a tank top and underwear and crosses the room to her dirty clothes hamper. Meanwhile Lizzie takes a bottle out of her own bag and pops her medication into her mouth, head bobbing back as she swallows the orange coated pill, not even needing water to get it down. 

Josie wonders if Lizzie has looked for a doctor out here yet. She seems to be doing fine so far but her medication needs to be recalculated often unfortunately and Josie doesn’t want Lizzie to have any episodes when things are going so good for her. Josie hates to compare her sister to a bomb because she’s so much more than her uncontrollable urges but sometimes Josie feels like she can hear the ticking in the background. Lizzie’s manic phases are more frequent than her depressive ones but both are hard to help her with and neither leave her feeling very good. Really, there’s not too much to worry about. 

Lizzie’s managing her bipolar disorder a lot better than she did when they were teens but it’s ingrained in Josie to look out for her. 

“Did you drink tonight?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “I don’t like the way it mixes.”

Unlike Josie, Lizzie goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash away the evidence of today from her face. Josie throws herself on one of the air mattresses they bought themselves. It squeaks underneath her weight, the air inside screaming to be released but tightly contained like all of Josie’s worries and new conflicting feelings. The traffic outside is never ending and loud and usually even with their box fan up high Josie can’t get much sleep but tonight her eyelids feel heavy and she’s sure she’ll have the sweetest of dreams, just like Penelope said. When Lizzie gets back she looks a lot younger and a little more tired. 

“How was work?” She asks. 

“Awful,” Josie groans at the memory but her voice is already laced with sleep. “I left early. One of my coworkers covered for me.”

“Really? Why were you still in your work clothes?”

“I was up at the pool,” Josie answers, closing her eyes for a second and finding colors of blue and hazel staring back at her. “It’s beautiful up there at night.”

“Isn’t it?” Josie hears zips and thuds and knows Lizzie must be shedding her armor. “I told you this place isn’t as bad as you thought it would be.”

“Maybe,” it surprises Josie that she actually means it. “I ran into Hope Mikaelson.”

“Ugh, I don’t like her.”

“I know,” Josie watches as her sister crawls onto her own air mattress clad in fresh, matching pajamas.

There’s a moment of silence and then Lizzie gasps, “That’s where you got the coat from!”

Josie nods, “Penelope was there too.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes, “I don’t like her either.”

“Good,” Josie says as Lizzie shuts off her lamp, plunging the room into telling darkness. “Because I call dibs on both of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long. I’m not very motivated. To be perfectly honest I’ve really lost hope in Legacies. I love the characters and I’ll still probably watch it but like wtf is going on with the plot? I had hoped that all the backlash and bad views would kickstart a change for season three but then Julie Plec tweeted about a musical episode? I hope you guys still enjoy the story though. We can still have a good time here. I know this chapter is mostly dialogue we’ll get some more action in there soon. Promise.


	3. The Very Essence of Romance is Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments and sticking with the story. I know it may sound silly but comments mean the most to me. Anyway was this chapter worth the wait? Probably not. Would it have taken another five months if I had chosen to keep revising it? Absolutely. Still don’t know how I feel about it but here it is! Sorry for whoever I gave false hope to whenever I said I was trying to get this out before Christmas.

Summer is officially Josie’s least favorite season. Virginia was humid, sub-tropical, the weather was hot but pleasantly so rarely exceeding 90°F. In fact, most of Josie’s adolescent summers were spent with family at Dunham lake. Lizzie and her would turn everything into a competition, seeing who could push who in first, who could jump the furthest off the old tire swing. Natural lakes are a rarity in California though – especially Southern California. 

Most of the hype is aimed at the beaches that line the west coast anyway. Josie doesn’t see why. This is her first time here and although she isn’t going for the whole experience she certainly isn’t enjoying herself. They haven’t even left the parking lot and it is crowded, finding a parking spot was a nightmare and voices are coming from all directions. Overzealous screams echo out from the amusement park, children quarrel amongst themselves and stomp their feet at their parents whenever they’re reminded the word ‘No’ exists, and the wheels of longboards rolling along the sidewalk zoom by like cars passing on the street. 

It all blends into this windy, spiral of noise that never quite seems to stop. Josie tries to think of the people as stories, exploring the world without ever leaving home like Hope said but her nerves simply don’t agree. It doesn’t help that they’re near the pier, a hot destination for locals and tourists alike. Josie was rather excited when she realized they were close enough to visit. Pacific Park looks directly out onto the ocean, the wooden planked floor held up by dozens of thick pillars that descend into the sea, the whole structure seemingly just one big wave away from crumbling to the ground. 

There are twelve rides that wrap around and tower over the park, a jungle of tangled metal and fast mechanics. The ferris wheel (the world's first and only solar powered one) is all the hype, supposedly providing a view like no other. Josie’s interest leans more towards the roller coaster that circles the majority of the park. Her advertisement like expectations are undoubtedly crushed but she’s still excited for that. She can hear it now, the metal grating as the carts race by, the air whistling at it’s sheer speed. 

This single spot of Santa Monica has appeared in hundreds of movies and television shows. Josie has probably seen a good majority of them. Like everything else, Pacific Park doesn’t quite seem like it does on the big screen. There is no close ups or drawn out panoramas. The asphalt and concrete beneath them is littered with trash and the type of flyers that no one ever really consensually accepts. 

She can taste the sea salt in the air but the long line of concession stands gives the ocean smell a run for it’s money and the heat, as usual, is uncomfortable. Stinging Josie’s skin and causing perspiration along every inch of her. Thankfully, she isn’t in anything more than shorts and a spaghetti strap. She hadn’t felt like dressing up much, her hair alone was too much work, now it’s just a frizzy mess of a ponytail. 

Lizzie is better but certainly not more covered. She’s in loose jeans and a bikini top, the cabana sleeve type, decorated with a beautiful vintage floral pattern. Her hair is down, clinging to her chest with sweat, but the top is hidden beneath a floppy straw hat. She’s leaning back on the hood of the car, a towel beneath her, the metal too hot for skin contact. They’re waiting for their potential buyer to show but honestly?

“This is the worst place to meet up with someone,” Josie says, mindlessly strumming her ukulele, the dainty, nimble sounds lost in the chaos around her. She’s sitting in the passenger seat, top pulled down, door left wide open, desperate for all the air she can get. “How is he suppose to find us?” 

“He knows what car to look for and I told him where we parked.”

“Is that why he’s twenty minutes late?”

“Chill out, Josette. I know pouting is in your DNA but today is going to be a good day. We’ll make some bank, maybe hang out on the pier, and taxi home in time for you to get a little nap nap in before work.”

“That doesn’t—” A loud quack interrupts them and Josie’s fingers fumble the notes she’s playing. Lizzie looks over her shoulder as Josie sets her ukulele in the driver’s seat and fishes out the cellphone in her back pocket. 

Josie may have set her ringtone to a duck. They’re cute and lovable and she doesn’t care how much her sister teases her about it. Josie opens up her messaging app, fully aware of who it is. It’s only been a day but Penelope has been texting her nonstop since the morning after receiving her number. It’s been a long time since Josie woke up to a good morning text and went to sleep with a goodnight one. 

Simplicity is key. Texting doesn’t take much effort but it is a wonderful reminder you’re on someone’s mind. Penelope’s text this time is short but effective.

**I had a dream about u last night**

Josie’s heart halts, like she and her vital organs alike can’t believe what she’s reading. When her heart does start up again it’s beating twice as fast and Josie wonders if her blush will make her cheeks redder than the sun already has. Her phone goes off again, another comical quack sounding off as a message appears right beneath the last one.

**It was a pretty great way to kick off my bday. Maybe tonight when I blow out my candles I’ll wish for it to be real ;)**

Penelope is a master of many things, that much is already very apparent to Josie but flirting is certainly her specialty. It makes Josie flustered enough that she shoves the phone back in her pocket instead of respond. 

Lizzie stares at her suspiciously, “Who was that?”

“A friend.”

“Well, did that friend send you a nude?”

Josie wishes Penelope had sent something a little more scandalous because than at least she would have a reason for why her text caused such a reaction. In all honesty, Josie can barely keep up with Penelope. Several times over the past twenty four hours Josie found herself floundering for a response, searching the internet for good pick up line responses or mentally cataloging all the romance books she’s ever read for a smooth one liner. Most of the time she settles for whatever mush her own head comes up with and just has to accept the fact that she’s probably ruined whatever mood Penelope was trying to create. 

“Shut up, Lizzie.”

Josie’s going to have to take some acting classes or get some Casanova type to show her the ropes because sucking at flirting is really putting a damper on things. After all, they live in an area surrounded by movie magic. If there’s any place someone can fake it, it’s LA. Josie takes this time to step out of the car and stretch her legs. The sweat that’s accumulating behind her knees is becoming an unbearable swamp and her joints feel stiff.

Where is this guy? 

He seemed at the maximum level of excitement when they exchanged messages online. Josie posted the ad and it didn’t take him long at all to message about it. It’s an old Chevy Camaro from the sixties and Josie googled it, it’s worth a pretty penny, even in the worst of conditions. 

Another quack suddenly sounds out between them and Lizzie glances over at her sister, “Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Later,” Josie says as nonchalantly as she can manage. 

Her fingers itch to grab her phone though, look at the newest message, have her heart melt all over again. Penelope leaves a sort of addictive feeling in Josie, one she can’t quite explain but wants to experience over and over again. Even if she did decide to cave into her impulses she wouldn’t get much of a chance to enjoy it. An obnoxiously lifted pickup truck pulls up in front of them. It’s loud, the exhaust rumbling as it comes to a quick stop. 

It’s a shiny, red, RAM of sorts. Josie was never very good at cars. It’s monstrous and Josie couldn’t imagine parking that thing to save her life. The driver’s side door swings open, the hinges squeaking uncomfortably, and out comes a box of a man. He’s all broad shoulders and muscular limbs, arms bulging out of his shirt’s short sleeves. He’s young but with a hint of aging, crows feet at the corner of his eyes beginning to set in, probably just closer to thirty than to twenty. 

He has colorful skin, his brown tones tinted with red sunburns threatening his complexion. His dark hair is slicked back with gel, or sweat, or some combination of the two. They’re sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, ray-bans that hide what Josie assumes is dark eyes. He’s taller than both of them by several inches but still holds his head high, chin tilted up like he wants to look down on them on a whole new level. He stands on the foot step of his truck like it’s a podium, chest puffed out with unmistakable pride. 

“You guys are the Saltzmans, right?” His voice is deep but grainy, very unique in a way, but Josie still thinks he’d be a horrible singer. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie takes the initiative, sitting up straighter. “You must be Diego.”

“That’s me,” He pulls his glasses down enough to visibly eye Lizzie up and down. “Do you come with the car or are you just posing for me?”

Neither of them acknowledge that comment. He instantly makes Josie uncomfortable and Lizzie too because he’s decently attractive and her sister hasn’t called dibs yet. Lizzie has always leaned towards men who have confidence and can take the initiative but they are different from men who seem conceited and entitled. Sometimes it takes awhile to differentiate the two and sometimes it doesn’t. Josie looks behind Diego and realizes that he’s not alone. 

There is someone else in the passenger seat of his truck, a petite silhouette, their image dulled by the dark tinted windows. At first it strikes her as rude that they aren’t getting out but if Josie had nothing to do with this interaction she’d probably hide away in her car too. 

“Everything is ready if you’d like to come down and check it out,” Josie says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

She stands rigid as he makes his way down, crunching the gravelly pavement beneath his boots. He appears to get taller the closer he gets. Lizzie slides off the hood of the car, coming to stand next to Josie like a reinforced barricade. Whether he’s doing it on purpose or not he’s coming off as very intimidating. Josie wants him to take them seriously. 

So, of course, another round of quacking starts. Josie curses Penelope under her breath. Now is not the time to spam her. She takes out her phone and silences it but it’s too late. Diego is smiling at her with a smug expression she’ll probably see in her nightmares for the next week.

“Cute,” he says, striding past her, nearly knocking shoulders. 

He looks over the car with little interest, which again strikes Josie as odd. This man is an enigma and Josie is sure that in his case, it’s not a good thing. He scratches at the stubble on his chin as he circles the vehicle, rolling his eyes a few times for good measure. Josie feels her face grow warm, a triple combination of embarrassment, anger, and California sun. 

“So like we said the AC is broken and we had to change one of the headlights like, a year ago,” Lizzie tells him, following him around the car.

He doesn’t say anything to that, it almost feels like he’s ignoring them. Lizzie puffs out a breath of air and Josie knows she already feels as irritated as she does. 

“I already wrote up the bill of sale for us,” Josie tries. “It’s ready when you are.”

That finally seems to grab his attention. He turns towards them and holds out his hand. Josie has to reach to give him the paper. She watches concerned as he reads over all the information of the transaction. 

“There’s no way I’m paying twenty thousand,” he laughs, practically throwing the piece of paper back at Josie.

“What?” Josie tries to reason, clutching the bill of sale close to her heart, careful not to crinkle the paper too much. “You said the price was fine when you agreed to meet up.”

“It looks different then it did in the pictures.”

No, it doesn’t. Josie had taken the pictures herself, making sure to include all angles and get great lighting. She remembers being so excited that they received an offer so shortly after posting it but now she’s filled with dread, her stomach in knots, uncomfortable arguing with this unreasonable stranger.

“How?”

“Look girls,” he sounds like he’s talking to children and the condescending tone is driving Josie crazy. “I actually know a thing or two about cars and this is in need of some major work.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lizzie asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “For someone who knows a lot about cars you haven’t even bothered looking under the hood yet.”

He ignores Lizzie and announces, “I’ll do twelve, tops.”

Josie honestly can’t believe this man. The blue paint is a little more faded than Josie would like and the tires have dulled over the time the girls have neglected them. The convertible top squeaks a bit when you pull it down as well but it’s never given them any real issues in the five years they owned it. Lizzie and her awful driving skills have even miraculously avoided scratching it. Besides the occasional oil change Josie honestly doesn’t know what underneath the hood may look like but the car has always ran fine.

It just took them across country less than two weeks ago for pete’s sake it couldn’t possibly be bad enough to lower the price that drastically.

“N-no,” Josie surprises herself. “We agreed on twenty.”

“I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you two dishwashers,” he says angrily, face warped in a threatening scowl. It makes Josie take a step back. “There’s no fucking way this car is worth twenty thousand dollars!”

“You’re right,” Lizzie snaps right back, taking a step forward. “It’s probably worth a lot more and it has sentimental value. So shut the hell up and pay or get lost!”

Diego spits on the ground right next to Lizzie’s feet, close enough for her to jump back and grab onto Josie.

“Ugh!” She screeches, nose wrinkled up in disgust. “You lowly creaton. These are Balenciagas!”

Josie feels her eyebrows hit her hairline. She doesn’t know much about fashion but she knows that’s a very expensive brand, a luxury fashion house. The type of thing Josie would expect Hope to be in, not her sister. When the hell did Lizzie get enough money to afford those? Josie doesn’t have time to worry about it too much. Not when there’s a Neanderthal slobbering all over the place. 

“Are we done here?” Josie asks, trying to get this whole situation over with. 

“I’ll pay,” Diego says. “Just not twenty fucking grand.”

“Side bar,” Lizzie announces, grabbing Josie by the arm and pulling her away, her grip tight enough to let Josie know she means business. “I don’t want to have to do this all over again. Let’s just drop the price a bit and bounce.”

“Are you sure?” Josie asks, glancing over at Diego who taps his foot impatiently. “This is obviously just a really aggressive way of low balling us.”

“We’re two girls trying to sell a car we don’t know anything about. With as much as we’re asking for it everyone is bound to give us a hard time about it. I’m already over it. Let’s take this asshole’s money and run.”

“Yeah,” Josie agrees. “But twelve is too low.”

“That’s true, shoot higher.”

“Alright,” Josie relents, this time time saying it loud enough for Diego to hear them. “We can go down to fifteen but that’s it.”

“Whatever.”

Too easy. Josie feels relief and defeat all at once. She feels like they just got played but they’re in a time crunch for money. Their loft is a barren wasteland, void of nothing but piles of laundry and other miscellaneous messes. Starting from scratch is easier said than done, especially since Josie and Lizzie actually began shopping around and were reminded, once again, that everything in L.A is expensive. 

They need furniture and decorations because Josie’s next house will be a psychiatric ward if she has to stare at plain drywall any longer. They could get something for their ceiling too, it’s so high and it seems like a waste to not utilize the space somehow. Don’t even get Josie started on the dire need for an actual bed. The air mattresses they’ve been sleeping on are absolutely _killing_ Josie’s back and no amount of ibuprofen or half assed back rubs from her sister are helping. They might be able to wait it out and get more money from someone who isn’t such a stereotypical jerk but it’s a gamble. 

Lizzie is right, they could get someone even worse next time and that’s just more time wasted. So Josie bites her tongue as she watches Diego the douchebag count out the money. He pays in all cash, which is super suspicious and not at all what Josie was expecting. Each one is a clean and crisp hundred dollar bill. Lizzie and Josie recount all one hundred and fifty of them as subtly as they can, trying to make a human twin wall to prevent all the other pedestrians from seeing them with so much cash. 

Josie really doesn’t want to get mugged. It’s one of the many experiences she’s hoping to avoid in L.A. Josie uses every trick she knows to try and authenticate the money as Diego signs the bill and snatches the keys and pink slip out of Lizzie’s hands. Josie grabs onto her sister’s wrist to make sure she doesn’t take any last minute swings. Diego clambers into the little Camaro, a process that takes far longer than it should, even with the top down he seems far too big for it. He has to adjust the seat all the way back and even then Josie watches him wiggle around to get comfortable. 

He somehow manages to turn the key, getting the engine to roar to life. He honks, just once, which surprises Josie and annoys her at the same time. They are still standing close after all but it must be a signal of sorts because the truck starts up around the same time and the mysterious passenger (that Josie completely forgot was even there) takes the reigns. They drive the truck out first, Diego following shortly behind. He skids the tires as he peels out of the parking lot, zooming out faster than he needs to, nearly hitting a few pedestrians on the way. 

“Dick,” Josie grumbles as she watches him drive away, the license plate she’s grown so familiar with slowly disappearing in the sea of traffic. 

“The dickiest,” Lizzie agrees. “Do you think we should send uncle Damon some of the money? I still feel bad we sold it.”

Their uncle had given them that car out of the kindness of his heart (even if their mother insisted he didn’t have one) when they were barely sixteen and still technically learning how to drive. It was a grand gesture, one neither of them could believe, and now all they have to show for it is a few grand they are sure to blow through in no time. As long as they get everything for their room Josie can at least say it was worth it. 

“He probably wouldn’t accept it anyway. What we should do is go to the DMV tomorrow,” Josie says. “Give them a notice of transfer. I don’t trust that guy.”

“Whatever,” Lizzie says, throwing an arm around Josie and pulling her along. “Let’s go ride the Ferris wheel!”

“Are you insane? We’ve got too much cash on us Lizzie, let’s just go home.”

“But,” Lizzie pouts. “The pier!”

“Too much money,” Josie repeats, just as disappointed with missing out on the roller coaster. It doesn’t stop her from crossing her arms and turning to face her sister though. “Speaking of, want to tell me about the shoes?”

Lizzie presses her lips together in a pout, refusing to meet Josie’s stare. “What about them?”

“Balenciagas, huh? When did you make that much money?”

“What does it matter? You’re not my financial advisor.”

“Maybe I should be,” Josie wishes her twin wouldn’t be so stubborn. Any time they argue she digs her heels in and refuses to budge. Even if it’s something as simple as being wiser with her money, no ones opinion means anything if it doesn’t coincide with hers. Lizzie was like this as a kid, she was like this when they moved into The Mancer, and she will most likely be like this when they’re old and brittle and rotting away in some nursing home together. Josie just has to live with it. “Those shoes are almost as much as your half of the rent.”

“Mind your own business, Josie. If we get behind on rent we’ll just ask your new best friend to help us out.”

Josie shakes her head, “Penelope is the one texting me, not Hope.”

“Great,” Lizzie throws her hands up. “So it’s the poor she-devil that’s up your ass instead of the rich one.”

“I doubt Penelope is _poor_ , Lizzie.”

That reminds Josie. She pulls out her phone to check her messages and while she was right, Penelope definitely had blown up her phone a little bit, there’s also a message from an unknown number. She opens that one up before she goes down the rabbit hole of Penelope’s messages. 

**Hello! This is Wendy Trap. A coworker of yours gave me your digits. I’m always down for some new songs. When we both have time I’d LOVE to talk music**

Josie nearly bursts at the seams with excitement, she honestly wasn’t expecting a reply at all. She squeals so loud Lizzie jumps in surprise. 

“What?” She asks. “Did she actually send you a nude this time?”

“No!”

* * *

The Poet’s Paradox is slow tonight, a rare occasion but one Josie takes pleasure in nonetheless. There’s enough people to keep busy but not enough to run her ragged. Most of the customers are actually on the dance floor, those that aren’t are seated at a table or lined up at the bar, hunched over a drink or five. It’s probably the first night since she’s been working here that she doesn’t feel like the worst waitress in L.A. It relieves some of the anxiety that’s built up in her chest, the weight that usually accompanies her when she puts on her uniform is temporarily gone. 

Josie hates to admit it but between the car incident this morning and missing Penelope’s birthday bar hop extravaganza, work seems to be the best part of her day. Which is, without a doubt, something she never thought she would say. She’s already had her time on stage too, which went well. It hadn’t been her best performance but it still managed to give her a rush of excitement, the genuine applause that followed always left her floating a little too high on cloud nine. It would have been nice to run into Wendy Trap though.

Who, unfortunately, isn’t scheduled to perform tonight. Josie and her haven’t discussed much music yet and Josie’s already starting to get impatient. That’s how she has always been with music, the ideas and desire to create always seem to overflow from her at a rate she can’t control. It’s an ich that instantly needs to be scratched. Josie had googled Wendy Trap after the very first time she saw her perform. 

She’s an up and coming artist alright. She’s no household name but Josie genuinely thinks she has the talent to become one. She has enough momentum behind her that she’s already landed herself a record deal but not enough to be booking concerts yet. She’s decently recognized on social media too. She has more Instagram and Twitter followers than anyone Josie knows, even more than Hope. 

If Josie’s collaborations with her go well her chances of getting discovered double at the very least. It’s a good opportunity all around and Josie’s been working on perfecting the songs she wants to present to her. One of Josie’s favorite pieces could still use quite a bit of tweaking on the bridge and the chorus could—

Someone suddenly snaps their fingers close enough to Josie’s face to startle her out of her musical train of thought. Josie should have known her good mood wouldn’t last. 

“Hey,” A middle aged man with a receding hairline scowls down at her, affectively blocking her on her way back behind the bar. She adjusts her stance, she had just cleaned off a table and now her arms are full of a tray with half eaten dishes and backwash filled glasses. “God, I’ve been trying to get ahold of someone forever. Check, please.”

“Oh uh,” Josie struggles to remember him, she doesn’t even know if this man’s table is in her section. 

The customer rolls his eyes and makes an awkward hand gesture, like he’s writing on some invisible piece of paper. He repeats himself slowly, syllable by syllable. 

“I need the check to pay.”

Josie laughs uncomfortably, a habit of hers in situations like these. “Of course, coming right up!”

She waits a moment for him to move but he stays still, planted to the floor like a stubborn old tree. Josie sighs and maneuvers herself around him. You don’t really know people until you work customer service and even then you never really understand them. Josie is fully aware that customer service jobs are not for everyone, herself definitely being one of them, she just doesn’t understand how so many customers can be so rude to her before she even gets the chance to mess up. Or, God forbid, she doesn’t give them their way.

It’s like she’s in a constant battle between what the customer is requesting and the limited scope of what she’s actually able to do. It doesn’t help that people have adopted the mantra that “the customer is always right” in an effort to get businesses and their employees to bend over backwards for them. It’s all an unfair power struggle and Josie isn’t up for the fight. She finds herself holding trays of drinks with shaking hands and held-back tears more often than not. Most customers are pleasant, at the very least they’re tolerable, but those few in-between take a mere inconvenience and really know how to ruin someone’s night with it. 

There’s a long, framed painting that is mounted above the bar like a sophisticated banner. She notices it as she gets closer, it’s darker tones blending effortlessly with its brighter colors. Josie isn’t entirely sure what it’s suppose to be, it’s more on the abstract side of things, that or Josie is just lacking more imagination than she though. Josie doesn’t know much about technique or specific styles either but she knows that this piece is beautiful. That when she looks at it, it makes her smile. 

She thinks that this is one of Hope’s masterpieces. Of course, that’s what she’s told herself about all of the paintings in The Poet’s Paradox that she’s seen and liked. Every free moment she gets she finds her eyes scanning the walls, the search for Hope’s paintings is her newest conquest, the possibility of being right on a single one of them keeps her motivated. The chance of having some unspoken connection to the girl of dreams and luxury thrills Josie endlessly. 

It’s because she’s focusing too much on the walls and not enough on her surroundings, (not at all because she’s just clumsy and has tripped a dozen times since she started working here) she clips the leg of a chair with the toe of her foot and lurches forward. She manages to catch herself but her tray of trash and dishes goes sprawling all over the ground. Thankfully none of it is glass but the thick plastic still clanks loudly as it bounces off the tile floor. The trash is nothing but a messy, greasy inconvenience to Josie. She bends over to stack everything back on the tray. 

For whatever reason she doesn’t squat like normal, just folds herself over like the point to a human arrow, the back of her skirt sliding up her legs. Someone was bound to comment about her ass in the air. 

“Wow and here I thought the show would be on stage.”

Recognising the voice Josie stands and spins around, nearly dropping the entire tray of trash again. Penelope reaches out and catches her and the tray just in time. Josie gapes up at Penelope like a fish out of water but the other woman remains unbothered. She’s glowing, dressed in an absolutely scandalous black and gold laced dress, sinfully short with a keyhole neckline that brings unwelcome heat to Josie’s cheeks. What is Penelope doing here? 

And why does she look so good? Josie immediately has a problem maintaining eye contact. So much so that she doesn’t know where to look: there are shapely legs that are absolutely divine in strapped heels, a window of tempting cleavage and the teasing, knowing grin on Penelope’s gorgeous face. That single expression that seemingly never leaves her face makes Josie feel silly and unprepared and incredibly vulnerable, like prey ready to be devoured.

“Sorry,” she mutters, directing her apology to Penelope’s black shoes, reluctantly pulling out of her gentle grasp. “I didn’t see you—”

“Ouch,” Penelope playfully throws a hand over her supposedly wounded heart. “I dressed up for you and everything.”

Josie can see that. She can also see the massive group of friends behind Penelope. It’s a random assortment of people, some Josie recognizes from The Mancer, others she’s never seen before. They’re all dolled up to different degrees, looking exactly like what you’d expect a group of twenty something year olds to look like while going out. Everyone seems to be a few bars in already. 

All glossy eyes and unsteady steps. Giggling and lost in their own interactions. Josie couldn’t remember the last time she was out with even half this many friends. Josie isn’t even sure if she’s ever had this many friends. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks Penelope. 

The birthday girl opens her mouth to answer but before she can someone is shouldering their way through the crowd. Hope emerges from the sea of bodies like an angel breaking through the clouds of heaven. She’s in a slim fitting jumpsuit that looks more formal than it was probably meant to. It’s all black, haute couture, the top half shaped like a corset and the midsection is adorned with two rows of shining buttons. The bottom half is clinging just as tightly to her shapely legs, flaring out near the bottom wear she’s slid her painted nails into some peep-toe wedges. 

Her auburn hair is in loose, precise waves, bouncing behind her like flicking flames as she dashes forward. She’s every bit as attractive as Penelope, flustering Josie in ways she really wasn’t expecting. Much like the first time they met, Hope also looks very, very angry. She grabs Penelope’s arm and pulls her close, until they’re nearly nose to nose.

“You can’t harass someone at their job,” she growls and then she turns to Josie, all sad eyes and concerned expressions. “Josie, I’m so sorry. She’s drunk. When she suggested we come here I didn’t know—”

Josie can’t help but giggle, “Hope, it’s okay.”

“It is?” They both say simultaneously. 

Although Hope phrases it as more of a question meanwhile Penelope’s tone is a little more matter of fact sounding, accompanied with a goofy smirk and jerky nod. 

“Yeah,” Josie shrugs, unable to stop smiling. “I’m glad to see you guys. I just uh, I’m a little busy right now.”

“No you’re not,” Wade pipes in out of nowhere and only long enough to snatch the tray from Josie and scurry off. 

She watches in shock, not for the first time, as Wade effortlessly weaves through the crowd until his burgundy polo is out of sight. 

“Alright,” Penelope cheers, throwing herself into Josie’s arms, spinning them around cheerfully. “Now it’s a good birthday!”

Josie feels like she’s on a carousel, gentle butterflies swarming her stomach, Penelope’s laugh is the sweet tune in the background. She releases Josie almost as quickly as she had grabbed her and dashes off towards the bar without another thought. The sound of her heels beating against the tiled floor fading away the further she goes. Josie watches her, eyes dropping down to her ass, wondering what she ever did to deserve the privilege of looking at such beautiful things. Hope was right, Penelope is already very drunk. 

The harsh scent of alcohol wafts off of her in waves. All of her expressions are exaggerated, her smile much broader than usual, eyes wide and unfocused, even her hand gestures are a bit wilder. She’s still managing to walk straight, even in her heels, so that’s either an impressive feat or she still has a few drinks in her before it’s time to call it a night. She’s so focused on Penelope that she hardly even notices Wade walk back by, his big hands now full of an assortment of drinks. There are tall cocktails with salt rims and citrus sliced garnishes, chilled bottles of hard soda covered in droplets of condensation, and decorative shot glasses filled to the rim that Wade somehow manages not to spill a drop of. 

He’s a talented waiter, years of practice and a constant can do attitude. Josie wishes she could be half as good at this job as he is. 

“Hey Wade,” she calls out. “Do you need help?”

“Nah,” he waves her off, holding up the tray of drinks in one hand, like it’s that easy. “Your friends are here. Just clock out. You were almost done anyway.”

“Thanks, Wade. You really are the best,” Josie praises. 

She isn’t going to question it just in case he changes his mind. 

“I’ll go make sure Penelope doesn’t order every drink on the menu again,” Hope says and moves to join Penelope at the bar. 

Struts, really. Hope has a certain walk that’s less hips and more power but Josie finds her eyes falling to the same spot they did on Penelope. Whether it’s a dress or a jumpsuit both of her objects of affection make it clear they have bodies worth starting wars over. Josie follows behind, hoping she’s not being too obvious with her staring and slips behind the counter, nearly bulldozering over one of her coworkers on accident. She _has_ to start paying more attention to her surroundings or she’s gonna end up walking off a cliff one day. 

Josie stands off to the side, trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. There are two different bartenders on this shift, each one moving on auto pilot, reaching with hazardous speed for the ingredients to make whatever drinks are being shouted at them. Glass clinks loud enough Josie is sure something is bound to break but the bartenders are professionals. One of them even does tricks as he mixes the drinks, tossing the bottles up in the air, flipping them around his back, flicking tiny umbrellas and toothpick stabbed olives into glasses from a foot away. His name is Kaleb and he’s a tall man, built like a linebacker, definitely athletic in his free time. 

His long black dreads are tied up in a neat ponytail and he has a smile Josie is sure could rival the sun. She doesn’t talk to him often and when she does it’s usually just asking him to make some drinks for an order, but he’s a sweet guy if only a little cocky. He’s constantly cracking jokes, always ensuring everyone around him is having a good time. He’s the last person Josie would want to mess up. He notices her in the midst of it all though. 

“What’s up, Josie?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “I’m just waiting to clock out.”

“No problem,” he nods, sliding out of the way while still pouring some blue liquid into a ridiculously large margarita glass. 

It’s one of those overpriced party type of drinks and Josie just knows that’s what Penelope ordered. Josie steps up to the monitor and punches in her numbers at record speed. Her fingers jab at the buttons on the screen, nearly breaking the poor thing. She’s over excited, she didn’t think she’d get to see Penelope today and now she gets to see Hope too. She doesn’t have a present for Penelope but somehow she thinks the other girl will forgive her. 

“See you tomorrow?” Kaleb asks as she walks away.

“I’m lingering,” Josie explains, making her way to where Penelope is leaning against the bar. Hope is right beside her, looking a little like a body guard and a lot like a dream. Josie gestures towards Penelope and announces, “It’s my friend’s birthday.”

“Wooh,” Penelope cheers loud enough to make Josie flinch away and Hope shushes her. 

“Oh yeah?” Kaleb asks, topping off the giant margarita with four bendy straws. It really is massive, a pile of crushed ice and slices of lime settle in the middle like a tiny mountain. Josie doesn’t know a single person who could drink even half of that on their own and not be completely wasted but then again, there are probably four straws for a reason. Kaleb gently sets it down in front of Penelope, with a wink of course and then turns to Josie again. “You want something to drink too?” 

“No thank you,” Josie isn’t much for alcohol.

She’s a light weight and hates being drunk. The taste is bitter, leaving a trail of fire all the way down into her stomach until she’s left a stumbling fool who no longer is able to think before she speaks. Even if Josie could handle her liquor better her father has left a stigma behind that Josie can’t seem to see past. Years of her childhood were spent helping him up the stairs, cleaning up his messes, and pressing pillows against her head to block out the sound of his withdrawal groans. Alaric Saltzman is a respectable man to the public eye, a favorite teacher to many of his students back in Mystic Falls, which is why his drinking habits always seemed like such a dirty family secret. 

He was never aggressive towards the twins or their mother, hardly ever even got angry, but his presence sounded alarms regardless. Everyone was always on alert when he was home, ready to come to his aid whenever he collapsed or got sick. It was exhausting. He’s been sober for years now but Josie still remembers. Things like that stay with you for longer than she would like them too. 

Whether it’s partying or drowning your sorrows in a bottle it all feels the same to her. An inherited shameful act. Lizzie was the one who use to like to drink but that ended pretty fast once she started taking medication in high school. Her wilding days were short and sweet and Josie is thankful for that. Her sister is a hot mess sober, she was an absolutely uncontrollable drunk. 

Josie watches as Penelope’s mouth fishes around for one of the straws in the giant margarita glass. A bedazzled head band sits on top of her hair, the attached giant twenty-three bouncing around as she moves. Josie had been so focused on the girl’s breathtaking dress she failed to realize the other adorable details. 

“Your birthday seems to be going well.”

“Yeah,” Penelope nods, a few seconds longer than she probably needs to. “How’s your day been, Miss I Don’t Text People Back?”

Josie bites at her lip, the memory of Penelope’s flirtatious messages (or rather the memory of how they made Josie feel) still very prominent to her.

“Sorry,” she smiles sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. “I got caught up. Lizzie and I sold our car this morning.”

“What?” Hope’s eyebrows furrow. “Why? That was a nice car.”

“Yeah but we rarely used it anymore and we really needed some cash. We can actually get furniture now.”

“Did you not bring any with you?”

“We didn’t have much to begin with,” Josie explains. “We went from our parents house, to dorms, to here. Starting new has kinda sucked. We don’t even have beds yet.”

Penelope smirks, leaning in close to Josie, “You can always share my bed, JoJo.”

Hope’s eyes grow comically wide, “Penelope!”

Josie just laughs, “JoJo? That’s what you came up with?”

“What?” Penelope challenges, not backing away an inch. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” Josie admits. “It’s adorable.”

“Just like you,” Penelope emphasizes each word individually, like the syllables are clinging to her mouth the same way Josie’s lips want to. 

Then her face scrunches up in a pout of sorts, more discomfort than sadness. She does a little dance, an awkward shimmy that Josie finds to be attractive in that dress nonetheless, and announces, “I have to pee.”

She doesn’t wait for any sort of response, just dashes off much like she did to the bar.

Josie has to holler, “The restrooms are that way!”

She juts her thumb out in the direction behind her and giggles as Penelope does a whole three sixty, rushing past them again, dress riding up her thighs and hair whipping around behind her. Penelope struck Josie as carefree. She’s too blunt and nonchalant to be anything else but intoxication is a complex biological process and it can affect people in a variety of different ways. For Penelope it seems to make her less purposeful, more child at heart than vixen, doing things just because rather then some underlying reason. Josie loves seeing new sides to the girls she’s getting to know. She makes note of each of them, storing them away in a place she can take them out and cherish later. 

Hope stays by Josie’s side, the rest of Penelope’s entourage finding things to do to keep themselves occupied. 

“I still have your coat,” Josie tells her the second they’re officially alone, sliding up onto a barstool. Hope follows her lead, taking up residence on the stool next to hers. “I don’t want you thinking I stole it.”

Truth of the matter is Josie simply hasn’t worked up the nerve to walk back up to the rooftop and knock on Hope’s door. She was even tempted to text Penelope a few times and ask her to come up there with her but somehow that seemed like a cop out. 

Hope shrugs, “Keep it.”

“Oh no,” Josie’s hands shake a little just at the idea. “I couldn’t do that. My sister told me how much that thing costs.”

“Well, good thing I didn’t pay for it then. It’s a family owned business. I get spoiled admittedly more than I probably should.”

That makes Josie smile. Hope seems pretty self aware. Her inheritance and social status is pretty incontrovertible but it doesn’t seem to affect her personality very much. It isn’t like she got to choose whether or not she would be born into such a legacy. At the very least she isn’t stingy with her wealth. Josie likes to think that counts for something. 

“I still wouldn’t feel right keeping it.”

“If you insist,” Hope says, looking away. “I just thought it looked better on you.”

Hope isn’t as smooth with her flattery as Penelope is, she seems about as shy to say it as Josie is to receive it but Josie still feels her stomach twist itself into tingly tangly little knots that she’d rather cut her fingers off than untie. The jacket definitely doesn’t look better on Josie but the compliment sits in her chest in the most comfortable position and she can’t bring herself to make Hope take it back. So she just follows Hope’s line of sight and sees one of the many paintings she suspected Hope of creating. 

“Is that one yours?” She asks before she can stop herself. “Penelope says you’ve done a few paintings here.”

“Oh,” Hope says. “Yeah, along time ago. That isn’t one of them though I doubt they still have any of my work up. I was just admiring it.”

“It’s nice,” Josie agrees, more than a little disappointed her guess wasn’t accurate. “Which is why I figured you did it.”

Hope laughs, “Have you ever even seen any of my work?”

The answer to that is yes. Josie spent more time recently than she would like to admit stalking Hope’s social media accounts. The girl seemed to have a profile on every major platform, all decked out in artsy aesthetics and selfies taken from angles that literally have the power to take Josie’s breath away. She shares her art all across the board as well, sneak peaks and quick sketches, work that has and hasn’t sold yet. She works with all forms, painting, drawing, sculpturing, digital, even some photography. 

If it exists, Hope Mikaelson seems to know how to do it and do it well. Josie may not be the best critic, what with her lack of any actual knowledge towards the subject and her admittedly very personal bias, but everything Hope touches seems to come to life. From what Josie saw in pictures Hope’s work is full of energy and excitement. There’s so much to look at - within each abstractions is a little clue or figure that gives you a tiny glimpse into her mind. At first sight Josie thought her work was rather chaotic but the longer she looked at it the more the art truly exposed itself on the canvas as raw and undeniable talent. 

Hope’s hands seem to be a tool themselves, crafted for the very purpose of creating divine art that speaks to the soul of all of it’s admirers. What ever success Hope has now isn’t enough. She deserves massive discovery, to have her name in some kind of hall of fame. Josie hopes her music comes across even half as influential as Hope’s art.

“Just some of the stuff you post online,” Josie admits.

The corner’s of Hope’s mouth quirk up, “You follow me?”

“Yeah,” Josie is trying to sound as casual as she can but her voice is unusually high pitched. “You popped up as recommended after Penelope followed me.”

Which isn’t a lie. Josie is just leaving out all the stalker-ish behavior that followed shortly afterward. 

Hope sighs, adjusting herself on the stool. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

A thousand thoughts race through Josie’s mind at what ‘that’ could be referring to. So many different possibilities have opened up for Josie recently. She’s thinking about and considering things she never dreamed of before. When it comes to the girls Josie has felt so light the past few days she may as well be floating. It seems appropriate for Hope to be the one to drag her back down, knock some sense into her, force her to face reality. 

What is she gonna say? Is she going to tell Josie her and Penelope are getting back together? Reveal some horrid thing that would make Josie uninterested in them both? Is she going to say that they can only be friends? That Josie’s quick obsession with them creeps her out? 

Maybe Hope is about to tell Josie to back off of Penelope. It has to be something dreadful, Josie is sure of it. It’ll all come crashing down, right here and now, before it ever even had a chance of building. 

“The thing is,” Hope starts. “Penelope is ridiculously straight forward. She has a bad habit of throwing all caution to the wind in favor of diving head first after what she wants and I totally get that it can seem like too much or too aggressive. If she’s ever making you feel uncomfortable or anything you can just let her know. She’ll stop immediately, I swear.”

Josie opens her mouth to reply but can’t seem to find the right words. Out of all the things Josie thought Hope would say, that wasn’t it. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Hope is trying to make sure Josie feels safe and respected and it leaves her warm all over. Every time she thinks one of them can’t get any more perfect they prove her wrong in seconds. Josie lets out a little sigh of relief. She can keep holding onto her wildest dreams, even if only for awhile longer. 

“How did you two meet?”

Hope blinks once, twice, and then her eyebrows furrow, making her look adorably confused. That probably isn’t how she was expecting Josie to respond but it’s the only thing that really came to mind. It’s the only thing that’s been on her mind. They fascinate her like no one else ever has and perhaps that’s because they fascinate her together. The thought of them as a couple, both so perfectly opposite of one another sparks Josie’s curiosity. 

The mental image of them together, both simplistically and sexually makes her heart races in unexplainable ways. Their passionate kiss on the rooftop wasn’t enough. Hope Mikaelson is beauty and charm. Penelope Park is pure sex appeal and wit. Josie really can’t stop thinking about either of them. She can’t stop thinking of them together. What is L.A doing to her? 

“Um,” Hope breaks out in an unsure smile. “We both went to this special high school. It was for troubled kids. Penelope was different than the rest of us though. Troubled by choice rather than just being inherently awful. She really appealed to the angsty teenage rebellion thing I had going on.”

“Things change after high school?”

Josie doesn’t know why she’s asking. Why she’s prying into business that is so obviously not hers. Each of them are like books, full of worlds Josie has yet to explore and they’re quickly becoming her favorite reads. 

“No, no nothing has ever changed. I love Penelope. I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the way I love her.” Love. Present. “She’s a thrill. Every second of being with her feels like sitting on top of a roller coaster. That girl completes me, even now, she gets me in ways I don’t think anyone else ever could.” 

Josie feels a hint of jealously but quickly pushes it down. They have only know each other a few days, to feel jealous about anything would be ridiculous but especially about someone Hope has been with on and off again for years. Josie thinks back to her ex boyfriend instead, the one she left when she came to L.A. She certainly wouldn’t have described their relationship anything like that. Conner was a regular guy, stereotypical in all the ways that mattered, and not at all what Josie was looking for. 

They went to the same high school but never really spoke until college. Josie tutored him and eventually one of his cheesy pick up lines finally wore her down. They began dating and what followed was just a long anticlimactic series of events. Some more explicit than others. She liked him enough, even if only for the affection, but even after months of dating it was clear she wasn’t and probably would never be in love with him. 

Josie stayed because although it wasn’t true or epic it was better than nothing at all. Better than being alone. Josie doesn’t mind being single for the most part but sometimes when she thinks about it too hard, when she’s worried that that’s all she’ll ever be, it all becomes too much for her. What Hope is describing, well, Josie certainly hasn’t had that before. Not with Connor and not with any of her other partners before him. 

“Why did you guys break up?” Josie asks. 

Because surely, feelings that strong can’t simply be forgotten. Not when you have them quite literally knocking at your door. Hope and Penelope still toe the line, balancing themselves in the gray area between friends and lovers but it obviously wasn’t always like that. They were engaged once, no gray area necessary, and Josie can see Hope struggling to articulate exactly how she feels now. Trying to summarize years worth of memories, experiences, and feelings can’t be easy. 

Perhaps Josie finally overstepped.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to—”

Hope cuts her off, “It’s a short story but it makes more sense when you explain it.”

Josie shrugs, “I’ve got all night.”

“Then I need a drink,” Hope says, waving down Kaleb and ordering a White Russian Twist.

Josie has never heard of that drink before but watches as Kaleb grabs a pair of tongs and a cocktail shaker. He plucks some ice cubes into the shaker and gently pours in some cold brew coffee. He flips a bottle of vodka around his back too, holding it by the long neck as he splashes some in. He combines it with some Amaretto, which again, Josie isn’t familiar with. He grabs some Chocolate Bitters next, he spins the little bottle in tight circles around his hand again and again. At this point Josie thinks he’s just showing off for Hope since she’s pretty. That or perhaps he can tell she’s a more wealthy customer. He’s a pro, after all, he’s probably use to guessing which of his customers are going to be generous tippers. 

“Josie,” Kaleb says, reaching over the bar to hand her the shaker, now capped off with the other half. “Would you do the honors?”

Josie takes it hesitantly, the steel cup cold underneath her grasp. She shakes it aggressively, the sound of ice and metal colliding ring in her ears. She makes sure to hold onto it extra tight, praying no accidents happen where the mixer comes apart and spills the contents everywhere. Hope watches her with a smile, chin propped up in her hand. Josie doesn’t ever think she’ll tire of having Hope Mikaelson’s attention. 

She’s getting use to the feeling of putting on a one woman show. Josie stops and looks up at Kaleb to make sure she’s done a thorough enough job. He nods at her.

“Better watch out,” Josie teases, handing him back the shaker. “I’ll be taking your job before you know it.”

That makes him laugh, “Learn how to do your job first and then maybe I’ll get scared for mine.”

“Oh,” Hope raises an eyebrow. “Is Josie not a good waitress?”

“She’s a beautiful singer,” Kaleb compliments instead of answering and Josie is a little thankful for that small mercy. 

He’s certainly one to talk, “As are you.” 

Kaleb has taken the stage a few times himself and each time Josie is blown away by his voice. He does simple covers, a few trendy renditions, but after every performance he gets a thunderous round of applause that will never be quite a good enough reaction. The man has the voice of an angel and Josie only bugs him about it every night.

“I’m still sitting on a few songs for you,” Josie tells him as he walks over to one of the many tall freezers. 

“I already told you,” he pulls out a chilled old fashion glass and kicks the freezer closed behind him. “You’d be wastin’ your songs on me. I just sing for fun.”

The glass already has a liquid strategically frozen inside, tilted at an angle that only covers the lining of half of it. Josie assumes it’s some kind of cream based on the color. 

“Then sing _my_ songs for fun,” Josie tells him.

“Imma pass,” Kaleb grabs another cube of ice, this one is huge and he places the lonely solid block of ice in the center of the glass. “But thanks for thinkin’ of me.” 

Finally, he pours in the contents of the shaker. It fills the glass almost perfectly, leaving just enough room for him to top it off with some more liquid cream and a thin black straw. He slides it across the bar with ease, not a single drop spilling out, and with impressive accuracy it stops right in front of Hope.

“Can you just add this to the tab?” she asks. 

“Sure,” Kaleb nods. “No problem.”

“The drink looks amazing,” she adds kindly, handing Kaleb a folded bill of money Josie can’t quite make out. “Thank you.”

He stuffs it into the breast pocket of his polo shirt and winks at her, “No, thank you.”

Then he’s spinning on his heals and directing his attention onto the next customer. Josie watches as Hope stirs her drink, taking the first small sip and smiling around her straw. Josie couldn’t be a bartender, she’d never remember the ingredients to a single drink. She applauds Kaleb and the others she works with. The staff at The Poet’s Paradox are rather elite, besides herself of course. 

The more she sees of them the less she understands how she got hired. Alas, there are more important things to focus on. Like how Hope and Penelope broke up. She crosses her legs at the ankle and makes a bit of a show out of giving Hope all of her attention. She leans forward, one arm on the counter the other on the back of Hope’s seat. 

Josie wants her to know that she’s really paying attention, really listening. Hope catches her eye and nods. She spins in her seat, facing Josie and they’re close enough that their knees brush together. The atmosphere is suddenly so serious Josie nearly pulls away but something keeps her in, keeps her doubts and insecurities at bay. Like a moth to a flame Josie is desperate to be as close to Hope as she can be.

“Right,” Hope says, still stirring her drink absentmindedly. “It’s not like there was any one particular cause. It was just a number of small things, little by little it all started adding up. It felt like I was stuck at the bottom of a sand clock, filling up with this resentment I couldn’t control. I considered leaving but every time I did I’d just realize how deep I was buried. I’d think about all the time, all the effort, all the memories. I had poured so much of myself into my relationship with her it just felt like a part of me. No matter how bad it got I just couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let her go. Does that make sense?”

Josie nods, “It does.”

Co-dependency is something Josie is far too familiar with. Her father likes to joke and say it’s hereditary but the way Josie and Lizzie were raised practically forced them to be no other way. Until they were well into their teens it was hard to tell where Josie started and where Lizzie ended. They were inseparable. Josie remembers their parents being very unavailable when they were young, in every sense of the word. 

Subconsciously, the girls took on the role of each other’s caretakers and like most dysfunctional families, no one acknowledged that this problem existed, they simply wrote it all off as being a ‘twin thing’. Josie and Lizzie dealt with it all in their own ways. Josie repressed her emotions and disregarded her own needs to focus on Lizzie’s (and then blamed Lizzie when the resentment became too much) and Lizzie often overreacted or lashed out whenever she felt like Josie was letting her down. They were stuck on a loop going in opposite directions, often colliding with little reason, constantly searching for validation and control they lacked with their parents. At least, that’s what their therapists told them. 

Lizzie was the only one going at first to help with her bipolar disorder but when underlying issues like that began to arise Josie was quickly recommended as well. Josie doubts Penelope and Hope’s situation was much like theirs but perhaps it started similarly, as children who loved too much with no idea how. 

“After a awhile things got really bad between us. We argued all of the time. It seemed like each other’s very existence just pissed the other one off. I felt like Penelope wasn’t trying. Like she just forgot about the romance aspect of being in a relationship. She never did the sweet things she used to do when we were kids anymore. In the end I guess I just felt, I don’t know, unloved?”

Hope forgoes the straw and lifts the entire cup to her lips, taking a long swig of her White Russian. It seems to go down smooth, Josie watches the column of Hope’s throat swallow down several gulps, a brutish act that she somehow makes graceful.

“And I’m not blaming it all on her,” Hope sighs, putting the glass back down, mostly defrosted and nearly empty. “I know I was distant and cold. I was angry at her all the time and she just took it. Like being my personal punching bag was better than not being around me at all. Sometimes it’s still like that. I guess she can’t let go of me either.”

The most contradicting things still have something in common, something that ties them together. A yin and yang sort of philosophy. There is a little bit of something in everything. In the good there is bad and the bad there is good. Everything in life is circumstantial and with relationships in particular, there will always be ups and downs. 

If one outweighs the other you have determine what that means. If it’s in favor of your mind, body, and soul or if it’s against your very being. In a relationship like Hope is describing Josie figures you have to make that choice every morning, like a constant struggle, a never ending back and forth. Determining if the love you have still outweighs everything else. It’s confusing, to love someone so fiercely you loose yourself in them. 

“Eventually, my family noticed the change,” Hope continues. “They were so worried and my dad . . . he’s so overprotective. I didn’t know about it until months afterwards but apparently he took it upon himself to fly out one night and meet up with Penelope. To this day neither of them will tell me what they talked about but I do know that Penelope called off our engagement the next day.”

A part of Josie always assumed it was Hope who had called things off. The girl is always so dismissive towards Penelope it was hard to make any other assumption but now it all makes a little more sense. It’s just a defense mechanism. Hope’s guarded, unwilling to let herself get hurt again, holding onto one hand while letting go of the other. 

“But you’re guys are still . . . ?”

Josie has no idea what is making her so brave. She’s digging into their personal life a lot deeper than she would ever normally dare. It’s just that the two of them are something. The kiss on the rooftop, Penelope’s remarks, the fact that Hope is even here, celebrating Penelope’s birthday with her. How far does that extend though? Is it romantic or just sexual, casual or definite? 

Josie has to know. Hope bites at her lip. 

“I still can’t let her go,” is Hope’s answer, which doesn’t give very much away at all. Her voice is quiet though and a little broken, like there’s too many emotions trapped inside of her chest that she can’t get out. “Some desires are just too hard to fight.”

“I agree,” a third voice suddenly says and Josie turns just in time to see a disheveled Penelope move to stand between them. 

Josie leans back to accommodate her but Hope stays exactly where she is, looking at Penelope unimpressed. Josie thinks it’s an unspoken challenge of sorts. 

“You certainly took your dear sweet time in there,” Hope says.

Penelope rolls her eyes, “Like you didn’t enjoy some alone time with Josie. You’ve been whining about it since that night on the roof.”

Hope is flush in seconds, the embarrassment spreading to the very tips of her ears, “Can you _please_ shut up?”

“You know,” Penelope ignores her, wrapping a warm arm around each of them and pulling them close. “Speaking of desires, I have a few right now that are a little hard to fight.”

“You better be talking about dancing,” Hope glares at her.

Penelope releases her hold on them and turns to Josie, “What do you say?”

Josie looks down at the hand Penelope is holding out to her. Josie wants to protest, wants to say she doesn’t really like to dance anymore either but she isn’t stupid and she can take a hint. Penelope may be drunk but there’s no way she managed to sneak up on them like that and not hear at least the tail end of that conversation. Josie is a little relieved actually. They need to talk, really talk. 

There is still so much that obviously needs to be resolved between them. Maybe when Penelope is sober she can bring it up again. Until then, she obviously wants a distraction. Josie just hopes that isn’t all she is for them. She grabs onto Penelope’s hand, the birthday girl’s skin soft like the petals of a flower. 

Their fingers interlock as if they know no other way.

“You coming?” Josie asks over her shoulder but Penelope answers before Hope can.

“She doesn’t dance,” her voice is a drunken mix between sarcasm and disappointment. 

It seems like a response Penelope has probably received many times over the years. Hope raises her glass as if to confirm Penelope’s answer and Josie’s suspicions. Penelope leads them out onto the dance floor. It’s the one section of The Poet’s Paradox that Josie hardly ever occupies. Beyond the rows of ill matched tables and before the elevated stage surrounded by mid grade speakers is a wide expanse of sheet vinyl flooring. 

A dark toned material that turns deathly slippery when someone spills their drink. Josie has watched it happen many times to customers and she is always the one stuck cleaning up the mess. It’s not slippery now though, it’s solid and secure unlike every fiber of Josie’s being. The place is all dim lighting and the music is so loud when they’re this close Josie can feel the bass vibrate through the walls and echo deep inside her chest. She’s nervous and she can feel herself already begin to sweat. 

Although that could be because of the amount of people surrounding them. Josie doesn’t think she can move three steps in either direction without bumping into someone. That means there are only so many different ways Penelope and Josie can dance together. Scratch that, knowing Penelope there is only one. Josie takes a deep breath and prepares herself for what she can only assume will be the sweetest torture she has ever endured. 

She doesn’t really mind at all. Penelope begins moving, without a care in the world and just a little unsteady. She dances on her own for a moment, lost in the catchy riffs and sensual lyrics coming from the band on stage. When she begins to build is when her body begins to inch towards Josie’s like an offering. Josie herself feels stiff, bones suddenly protesting any sort of movement. 

Her arms are stuck tensely at her sides, feet just awkwardly shuffling around. Years in dance classes all wasted in the moment of truth. Penelope either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She reaches for Josie and loosely crosses her hands behind Josie’s neck. It’s enough to keep Josie anchored but not enough to break the tension growing between them. 

She’s close enough now for Josie to really look at her, the winged eyeliner she’s applied with deadly accuracy is still perfectly in tact, the dark mascara she paired with it is becoming a bit blotchy though. Her brown toned cheeks teasing a blush that Josie is sure comes from the alcohol in her system. Unlike Josie and Hope, Penelope doesn’t seem to be the type to blush. Her hair is becoming wild too, a sexy mess of curls, somewhere between the bar and the bathroom she seems to have lost her party headband. Her hazel eyes are glossy but focused, never once leaving Josie’s own. 

Her heels put them around the same height too, leaving Josie with no sort of advantage. There’s no do overs or ‘just kiddings’ in this moment. Josie has to seize these opportunities as they come because she has no idea when her luck is going to run out. She has no choice but move on instinct. Which would be a lot easier to do if she didn’t feel a second pair of beautiful eyes of her. 

Hope is blatantly gawking at them from across the room, the sadness in her eyes that Josie left her with is now gone, replaced with amusement and (dare Josie dream) _want._ She looks taller sitting on top of a barstool, legs crossed over one another, a perfect audience of one. Josie finds herself looking back and forth between her and Penelope, feeling almost as if her eyes were meant to appreciate pretty girls.

“Sorry,” she tells Penelope. “I know I’m not really dancing to the rhythm.”

“Sure you are,” Penelope argues, pulling her in a little closer, slowing them down in an instant. “All I can hear is you, Josie.”

And just like that Josie is breathless.

“Can you hear me too?” Penelope asks. “Do I sound like music?”

Josie knows Penelope is just drunk rambling but her words strike a match at the center of Josie’s heart and burns her from the inside out. Penelope does sound like music, the girl is her own beautiful song and Josie doesn’t think she’s ever loved music more. Penelope starts to roll her hips in a sort of figure eight, back and forth with even twists. She curls her fingers around the nape of Josie’s neck, pulling her completely into orbit, her gravity strong enough to keep Josie there for billions of years. It’s all a little easier after that. 

Josie’s body is suddenly tingling, every limb unable to settle. Her palms slide along that skin tight dress, reaching out for the curve of Penelope’s waist, thumbs pressing into the softness of her hips. She tries to absorb some of Penelope’s confidence, even some of her drunken courage would be nice, but all Josie gets is the warmth of her proximity and the thick tension that separates them from the rest of the room. This performance is never ending, Penelope’s song suddenly getting louder, and the whole world shrinks down to the two of them dancing and a third still sitting at the bar. Josie looks back at Hope from over Penelope’s shoulder and their eyes find each other and they don’t leave again. 

Hope’s features are blurry from a distance but the lights dance across her face. Her auburn hair suddenly the brightest shade of orange, her usually rosy cheeks now a dark highlighter, and her full lips as red as the oldest star in the universe. She wants Hope to come closer, to join their tiny, exclusive galaxy on the dance floor. She stays seated on her barstool though her attention never wandering and Josie thinks for now that’s good enough. She almost moans, as embarrassing as that is, when Penelope turns around and presses their entire bodies together, Josie’s hips glued to Penelope’s ass.

Their thighs slide back and forth too, both bare in a work skirt and a dress made by the devil. Josie holds onto Penelope’s hips tighter and tries not to think about the delicious friction they’re creating between Josie’s legs. She buries her face into Penelope’s neck, inhaling the sweet combination of her fruity shampoo and the alcohol she’s been drinking all night. From there, a lot of pretending ensues. She pretends she doesn’t see Hope shift on her barstool. 

Pretends she doesn’t feel her own arousal rise and crash like the waves of the ocean. Pretends she doesn’t want to just throw Penelope down and do a different sort of dance, one of tangled limbs and twisted tongues, one as old as time. Pretending, it turns out, is much harder to do when her heart is beating this fast. Josie sucks in a sharp breath as Penelope leans back, head lolling on her shoulder until she’s able to press her lips against the shell of Josie’s ear. She’s breathless from dancing and every exhale sends goosebumps all along Josie’s skin, every cell in her body thrumming at the feeling of it. 

She hopes their audience can see it from her spot at the bar. 

“Want to get some air?” Penelope whispers and if the girl was any further away Josie wouldn’t have heard her over the music. 

“Y-Yeah,” Josie agrees mindlessly, gesturing outside so that at the very least Hope knows where they’re going. 

Hope still doesn’t move though, simply quirks an eyebrow, sipping her drink, no doubt a refill Josie hadn’t seen her order. Josie follows after Penelope nonetheless, their hands clasped like locks left unpicked. The Poet’s Paradox has steadily gotten busier since Josie clocked out. Penelope’s giant entourage being partially to blame. They have to navigate a route to the door, a long journey full of ‘excuse mes’ and one too many sharp elbows. 

The polluted air of Los Angeles has never felt so fresh. The smoke and dust and smog are hardly recognizable after being trapped with alcohol and sweat and fried foods. That’s an exaggeration, Josie place of employment doesn’t smell that bad, it’s just that she stays inside for too long and her senses are filled with nothing but stuffy regret. Unlike a lot of her coworkers she doesn’t smoke cigarettes so her breaks and lunches are usually spent holed up in the break room behind the kitchen, sandwiched between the main freezer and employee only restrooms. The outside world feels nice. 

The back patio is empty too, caged off from the sidewalk and neighboring buildings with a row of lopsided plants, a strange assortment ranging from flower beds to hanging Pothos that swing in the breeze like a green chandelier. The place is spotless from it’s lack of use tonight. The outdoor tables are neatly aligned, their matching fold up chairs pushed in tightly, the cobblestone flooring recently swept. It’s pristine and even the traffic seems quiet compared to the thrumming music. It’s all so unlike inside Josie would hardly recognize the place. 

Penelope suddenly begins digging around in her bra, an action Josie tries (and fails) not to pay too much attention to. Her breasts press up and threaten to spill out in an unmistakable manner. Josie wonders what size Penelope is. She isn’t nearly as well endowed as Hope in that area but she certainly isn’t lacking as much as Josie either. She’s a perfect medium, soft curves that Josie watches jiggle back and forth. 

Josie curses under her breath, she’s _actually_ going to hell. What Penelope eventually pulls out is a thin tin box, decorated in swirls of colors and tiny lettering that Josie can’t make out. Josie doesn’t even have to ask, she already knows it’s marijuana. Penelope slides the lid off, carefully plucks out a tightly rolled joint and then goes back to fishing around in her bra. This time she pulls out a tiny lighter, baby blue in color and barely the size of a thumb. 

“You okay to be smoking that?” Josie asks concerned. “You’ve already had a lot to drink.”

“Aw,” Penelope coos at her. “You worried about me, Jojo?”

“Only a little,” she explains before pointing towards the warning sign mounted on the wall, near the doorframe. “You know this is a no smoking area right?”

“I do now,” she says but it doesn’t stop her from lighting up, the tip burning bright as she takes her first hit, breathing it’s life out in a beautiful puff of smoke that leaves her full lips at a teasing pace. 

“Do you smoke?”

“Not usually,” Josie admits, eyes still attached to Penelope’s lips. “But you’re making it look pretty appealing.”

Penelope smiles and hands the joint over to Josie. It feels delicate in Josie’s fingers, unnatural in a way. The few times Josie had smoked were mostly in college and it been out of Lizzie’s friend’s bong. This is a little different, and as Josie brings it to her lips she can’t help but stare at the faint coloring Penelope’s lipstick left behind. It marks the same place Josie’s lips are about to go. 

She feels like a school girl, fantasizing over an indirect kiss. She can’t remember if anyone has ever made her this cheesy. Hope and Penelope were born with some kind of sorcery, Josie is sure of it. She looks around, a little paranoid. She is still at work after all, publicly smoking marijuana is still frowned upon especially in a non smoking section at her job. Much like Penelope, it doesn’t stop her from taking a deep drag and she’s a little proud of herself when she barely coughs at all. 

It’s peaceful for awhile, neither of them saying anything. The distinctive smell consumes the air around them. Tendrils of smoke swirl up into their lungs as they pass the joint back and forth, fingers brushing every time, eyes locked with every new drag, breathing in deeply and burning holes in all their worries that don’t exist in this moment. Some residual smoke hangs in the air around them, shifting like ghosts in the gentle breeze. Josie leans against the building’s wall as Penelope looks up, blowing the smoke straight into the air, stretching out like a sleepy cat. 

Her dress rides up high on her thighs and Josie gets lost tracing the lines of her curves. Her eyes follow a path up, landing on a shining treasure dangling from Penelope’s neck, glimmering underneath the patio lights. It’s a three layer necklace. Two thin gold chains above a longer one that is centered around a flat pendant. The letters P and H engraved in fancy font diagonally from one another. 

It’s looks expensive and new and Josie stares at it almost as long as she stares at Penelope’s legs. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” she compliments.

Penelope hums in agreement, “It’s a present from Hope. I’m sure I’m getting another one tonight.”

Josie shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She knows what type of present Penelope is referring to, what she always seems to be referring to but there’s no way Josie is going to be able to talk about her having sex with Hope after dancing with Penelope like that. There’s just no way. 

So instead for some reason she blurts out, “You should tell Hope how much she means to you.”

Penelope looks at her a little funny, all glossy eyes and pulled together eyebrows, “Trust me, Hope knows how much she means to me.”

“Remind her.”

Josie prays she’s isn’t over stepping, isn’t wedging herself between them too forcefully, she has just gotten a glimpse of the inner workings of a broken machine and wants to help repair it. Especially since the owners will continue to use the machine even if it isn’t working. It’s just who Josie is. 

Penelope doesn’t look angry though just a little defeated. “I try, you know? It drives her crazy but I really do try to be sweet and stuff it just doesn’t come out the way that it use to.”

“Just don’t be afraid,” Josie tells her. “From a hopeless romantic to someone who is apparently romantically hopeless just love her with everything you have with every minute that you have her. Don’t contemplate if something is stupid or cheesy, if that’s how you feel just say it or do it. You have to show her. You have to let her feel it too.”

“I like you Josie,” Penelope smiles. “You make the most complicated things sound so simple. I can promise you though that contemplating isn’t really the issue. I’m pretty spontaneous.”

“Hope says you’re impulsive.”

“Same thing,” Penelope wiggles her eyebrows, the motion a little wilder than usual. “I just don’t like to waste time. Especially on important stuff. Like us. I want to spend every second getting to know you better Josie last name.” 

Josie throws her head back and laughs, “It’s Saltzman. Josie Saltzman.”

“Hmm,” Penelope hums, tapping a finger on her chin in contemplation. “No. We’ll have to change that. What sounds better to you: Josie Parker or Josie Mikaelson?”

“I feel like this is a trick question.”

“Nonsense, both of those will be my last name soon enough so I’m good with either.”

Josie wonders what Hope’s father said to Penelope. How could he possibly make someone who is still so obviously in love with his daughter call off a wedding she still fully intends on having? She wonders if he did it intentionally. After all, sometimes the things we say may seem like nothing more than dismissive thoughts to us but to someone else they could be a haunting mantra, words that can’t be unheard and by extension, can’t be unspoken. Growing up in Mystic Falls Josie knows all about that. 

The gossip she would overhear between adults was nothing but that to them, petty comments tossed back and forth about other’s who had their backs turned but the more young Josie overheard the more self conscious she became. The adults spoke about everyone that came across their path, spinning and twisting their names with their own shallow opinions about them and Josie mulled over what was probably being said about her and her family for much longer than she would like to remember. It kept her cautious and quiet as a teen and made her unlearn a lot of bad habits as an adult. Hope’s father is rich and powerful and overprotective. A simple fatherly warning could have come across as something else entirely to Penelope and Josie would understand completely. 

She wants to know, her curiosity eating away at her, but if Penelope hadn’t even told Hope yet it isn’t Josie’s place to question or know. 

So instead she asks, “How are you always so confident you and Hope will work out? When things are still so messy between you how can you be so sure?”

“Because I know we’re meant to be together,” Penelope eyelids drop, half hiding the hazel underneath and suddenly leans in close, about as close as she was on the dance floor. 

Josie’s mind instantly short circuits, all her wires crossing in an attempt to count Penelope’s painted eyelashes or specks of emerald in her eyes. Her button nose nearly brushing the tip of Josie’s, her shiny nose ring sparkling in the space between them. There’s something about this moment that makes Josie feel so very close to her and yet still so far away. She stays where she is, pressed against the wall, the rough surface pressing into her back but it’s less noticeable then before. In this moment Penelope has consumed all of her attention, all of her feelings and wrapped them around her little finger. 

She could play Josie like a doll if she wanted to. Even being drunk and off her game she still has enough control to be the puppeteer. Josie doesn’t know if that’s a demonstration of Penelope’s strength or Josie’s weakness. She just knows she would let it happen a thousand times if it kept Penelope this close to her, if it keeps them in each other’s orbit. 

Penelope’s next words are whispered. “I can just feel it. I can always feel it. When people are meant to be together.”

Josie watches with bated breath as Penelope eyes fall shut and she closes the gap. The anticipation makes Josie’s chest feel tight, like time can’t possibly move fast enough. Josie closes her eyes too, giving herself over to the desire she’s felt the moment she saw Penelope Park. There’s a short exhale of breath against her mouth, riddled with alcohol and determination. Then there’s a hand on her shoulder and she’s pushed to the side. 

“That’s where that ends,” a familiar voice says.

“Lizzie?” Josie asks, blinking as though she’s not seeing properly. “You’re here?”

And yes, it is in fact her sister. Clad in her own party attire, a ruched mini dress as green as any forest with a slit up the thigh. Josie doesn’t think twice about her sister’s heels but the new glimmering necklace and undoubtedly designer handbag she sports certainly catches Josie’s eye. _Seriously_ where is her sister getting all this money and why is she here?

Penelope sighs, “Yeah, that’s the last time I invite you out drag hag. Your sister can make her own decisions.”

“Absolutely,” Lizzie agrees. “When she’s not high as a kite.”

“Lizzie,” Josie scolds her. “I’m not high.”

At least not yet. Unlike Penelope the weed hasn’t really started to hit Josie. 

“Whatever,” Lizzie crosses her arms. “You met this creeper a few days ago and now she shows up at your work and tries to suck out your soul?”

Penelope shakes her head and gives a soft amused laugh, a disbelieving sound, “You knew where we were going when we hopped bars, you didn’t have a problem then.”

“I didn’t know your intentions until now!” 

Josie’s head is spinning, too many different emotions rushing through her at once, her heart still racing at the near kiss.

“Look,” Lizzie says. “I’m beat. I’m going home. I just wanted to see if you wanted to come with.”

Josie shakes her head, “No. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” her sister touches her shoulder, looking serious for a moment. “Make good choices. Don’t do anything I would do.”

Josie shrugs her off, “Seriously, Lizzie. I’ll be alright. Just get home safe, okay?”

“Sure,” she turns to look over at Penelope, a smug smile stretched out across her lips. “Happy Birthday, Satan. Hope I didn’t ruin the mood.”

Penelope looks ready to slap that smile right off of Lizzie’s face. 

Josie steps between them, “ _Goodnight_ , Lizzie.”

With her sister gone Josie knows instantly that the moment is ruined, the tension that had been building all night between Penelope and herself dissipated in seconds. She’ll be forgiven for killing her sister, right? Even if she wanted to she doesn’t get much of a chance. As Lizzie goes in through the back door, Hope comes out, looking at the blonde suspiciously before joining the other two. Her bright eyes flicker back and forth between them with an expression Josie can’t decipher. Josie wonders how many more drinks she’s ordered, she doesn’t seem to be very drunk.

“I’ve come to interrupt but Josie’s evil twin seems to have beaten me to it,” Hope says but Josie’s too annoyed to stick up for her sister right now. 

Josie’s lips feel lonely, still yearning to be loved and in this moment Lizzie does feel very evil. 

“She definitely beat you to it,” Penelope holds out the last little bit of the joint. “Want to smoke with us?”

Hope shakes her head, “I already drank more than I should have.”

“Hm,” Penelope nods unimpressed and mutters, “Weakling.” 

Hope hears her anyway and scowls, “Fuck you.”

“Oh,” Penelope winks, “You’ll get to. Don’t worry.”

Josie giggles, her stomach clenching at flirtatious words that aren’t even being aimed at her. They each make themselves comfortable on the patio. Hope takes it upon herself to grab a chair, Penelope opts to hop up on the table, and Josie just keeps to the wall. It’s solid enough to support her and it’s a safe enough distance away to not jump either of the girls in front of her. From there, it feels much like it did that night on the roof. 

They talk for what feels like _ever_. The bar, the party, nothing else seems to matter beyond this small circle that Josie is getting more and more comfortable being in. It starts with Josie telling them about work and Wendy Trap and Hope sharing how she has this new piece she’s really stuck on and Penelope randomly remembering that she abandoned her giant margarita inside and she can’t go back for it because by now it’s either been tossed or drugged. They brush over all kinds of topics, staying away from dangerous territory, Hope and Josie have had enough serious talk for the night. It’s easy conversation, the stimulating parts coming from Josie or Hope, with some mindless remarks occasionally made from a very cross faded Penelope. 

There are times when Josie is left a speechless, blushing mess and there are times when she’s laughing so hard her eyes water and she thinks she may need a few stitches. She’ll never get tired of the ex-newlyweds dynamic, watching them is like putting together a hot, funny puzzle and slowly but surely Josie feels like she’s beginning to fill in the pieces they leave open for her. It’s entertaining and only occasionally concerning when Hope has to reach out a hand to make sure the birthday girl doesn’t fall off the table she’s sitting on. By the time the sun wakes up and begins to rise it’s a practiced reaction that comes in handy when Penelope eventually passes out, quite literally. Hope pays the tab inside and calls a taxicab. She also asks some guys from The Mancer to lug Penelope out. 

It’s actually pretty funny. Penelope is a fairly slim girl, shorter than most too. She’s dead to the world though, her weight apparently amplified by liquor, even two full grown men are having quite the time situating her. She gets tossed around with little care, not that she seems to mind too much, she just flops back and forth like a fish. The guys who are suppose to be helping her are also drunk off their asses so it was a recipe for disaster to begin with.

“Is this safe?” Josie only half jokes, watching one of the guys stumble as they make their way towards the taxi. 

Hope shrugs, “As long as they don’t drop her I don’t care.”

Which is how they find themselves standing on the sidewalk, watching their beloved Penelope get crammed into the taxi at a rather uncomfortable angle. Josie’s happy their aren’t too many other people around because this definitely looks like a kidnapping. Hope is next to her, shaking her head at the drunken spectacle they’re both watching. Hope’s side profile is unfairly attractive. She’s all perfect angles, her long hair falling gracefully in line, lips tilted up in the smallest of smiles. 

“You sure you don’t want to ride with us?” Hope asks for the third time but Josie waves her off. 

“You seem like you have enough passengers for one ride.”

Hope laughs, “Fair enough.” 

Josie is unsure of how to say goodbye to such a beautiful girl on such a wonderful night. She really doesn’t want it to end but everyone needs to sleep and pray they wake up without a hang over. A part of Josie is ready to explode with a confession, she feels like she has to tell Hope that Penelope and her almost kissed. She has a right to know, doesn’t she? There’s a decent chance they’re all on the same page and Hope will be ecstatic for her. 

Josie would like to talk about it with someone anyway. Penelope is a five star girl and the fact that she’s interested in Josie is brag worthy, right? Then other part of Josie is so terrified to say anything to Hope in case she reacts badly. After all, there is also a _very_ good chance Josie got too ahead of herself. They could all be on very different pages and how bad would it look if Josie lent her shoulder to Hope and then turned around and tried to get with the very girl she was upset over? 

All the more reason to say something. To know how everyone feels about the situation instead of just continuing to guess and blindly following a path that could very well lead to nowhere. 

“I hope you had fun tonight,” Hope says. 

“Fun?” Josie panics. “With what?”

“Us,” Hope clarifies, looking at Josie a little funny, her eyebrow quirking up in that signature way of hers. “I’m still sorry that we showed up unannounced at your job.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Josie tells her. “Tonight has been wonderful.”

Her words don’t seem to sway any of the guilt Hope is feeling, “I’m also sorry that things got a little emotional. I normally don’t talk about Penelope and I’s relationship.”

“I’m glad you did,” Josie grabs her hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Maybe you should talk to her about it more too. Resolve some things.”

“It’s easier said than done but talking to you tonight did help.”

“Good,” Josie means for it to sound like a goodbye but Hope keeps a steady hold of her hand, her fingers playing with Josie’s nervously. 

The simple action feels like it releases a stampede in Josie’s stomach, she’s all tingles and giddy smiles in seconds. Hopes fingers are soft but strong, small callouses just barely forming on her palms. Her gaze flickers back and forth between Josie’s eyes and her lips. Josie gulps, paying close attention to make sure she isn’t imagining anything. She can feel the weightlessness in her body, the rhythm of her thoughts slower than normal, she knows the weed is still a little in affect. 

She doesn’t want to misread the situation, doesn’t want to be too presumptuous. Doesn’t want to keep walking down that road. Penelope is one thing, Hope is a whole other ball game. She knows where she stands with Penelope a lot better than she does with Hope. If Penelope were to touch her like this, were to look at Josie the same way Hope is right now she’d be certain what was about to happen. 

Hope is a magnificent question mark though so Josie stays as still as a statue and waits for her to make a decision or a move, if that’s what the girl is going for. For all Josie knows she just has something on her face. Ugh, just once she would like to know where she stands. She would like to know what to expect. 

And Hope, beautiful and perfect Hope, finally gives her just that. 

The other girl leans in, quick and gentle, pressing the softest kiss Josie has ever felt against her lips. Hope’s bottom one settles perfectly between Josie’s own, her lip full and slick with a chapstick Josie wants to wear for the rest of her life. It all hits Josie at once, the taste of Hope’s lips, the scent of her foreign perfume, the feeling of their chests gently brushing together. Josie is beyond surprised but she tries to reciprocate anyway, tries to show Hope how much she wants this, tries to make her feel even half as good as Hope has just made her feel but she doesn’t get the chance. 

It ends as soon as it begins and Hope pulls back, eyes wide, like a deer trapped in the headlights. For a moment they’re both frozen, simply staring at each other, an unspoken connection forming into something neither of them have the words for. It’s cute in a way but more so disappointing. Josie could have kissed her for hours. 

“I—“ Josie tries to get some of her feelings out but again, it’s to no avail. 

Hope practically launches herself into the taxi, squeezing herself in with the three drunken people in the back seat. 

“Goodnight, Josie,” she rushes to say, her words sort of blending together and then she slams the door closed behind her, the poor thing barely managing to shut.

She must push her urgency onto the taxi driver as well because they skid out of their parking spot, zooming into the flow of traffic like someone is chasing them. Josie watches them go helplessly and presses her fingers up to her lips. It all happened so fast she’s unsure if anything even really happened at all. There’s a longing in her for more, more, _more_ and Josie knows it must have been real. Her body wouldn’t have become so addicted to a drug she’s never tried before. 

This has been an odd night, full of surprise visitors and conversations she wasn’t expecting but Josie would do it all again in a heart beat if it ended like this every time.

* * *

The Mancer is quiet by the time Josie gets home, traces of darkness still lingering in the corners of the complex, the whole place seemingly at ease. It’s surreal to think that there’s so many people within these walls, most of which are probably still asleep, charging their internal batteries for another day. She hopes the girls got into bed okay, it’s because of them the walk down her own faded white hallway feels longer than usual. Actually, it doesn’t feel like a walk at all. She’s floating, Penelope’s song still in her ears and Hope’s eyes still on her mind. 

It feels like they’ve created their own little universe and Josie wants to live in it forever. Her dreams will be more like memories, she’s sure. Her mind will probably want to replay tonight’s events over and over again, even in an unconscious state. Floating, as it turns out, isn’t any safer for Josie because she suddenly kicks one of the legs of the side table in the corner. The bang echos out in the early morning and she grits her teeth, freezing on the spot, waiting for someone to come out and yell at her that she’s being too loud. 

Nothing happens though, no angry neighbors come barreling out of their lofts. She’s left to search for her keys in peace, a task that shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. It’s as she’s rummaging around in her tiny back pack that she notices the brightness creeping out from beneath their loft’s door. It’s artificial for sure, the sun isn’t high enough yet to be filling their loft with it’s natural glow. Josie swears if Lizzie fell asleep with the lights on again she’ll kill her. 

It’s a waste of electricity and she doesn’t want her neighbors thinking they’re the type to never sleep. Back in Mystic Falls it didn’t take much for people to assume you were on drugs, Josie thinks that reaction has probably doubled in L.A. She finally gets to her keys and puts them in the deadbolt only to discover that the door . . . isn’t even locked. Great, so her sister wants to get kidnapped too. Josie sighs and opens the door, the metal hinges squeaking as she shoulders her way in, once again disrupting the quiet morning. 

It takes Josie all of two seconds to notice something is very wrong. Their room looks the same as it always does, a collection of little messes due to the lack of any real furniture but her sister is not asleep with the lights on like Josie thought she was. In fact, her sister isn’t asleep at all. She’s awake and very naked, spread eagle in front of her laptop. Josie can’t see where her sister’s hands are or what they’re doing but the implications of it are enough to scar her for life. 

She slaps a hand over her eyes and screams, “What the actual _fuck_ , Lizzie?!”

All concern for waking her neighbors gone in an instant. Lizzie screams too, a shrill shriek of genuine terror that under any normal circumstance Josie would find hilarious. But as she hears Lizzie slam her laptop closed Josie is reminded how far from a normal circumstance this is. 

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Her sister accuses. 

The nerve! 

“Haven’t you ever heard of decency?” Josie fires right back, still a little in shock. “Did you forget we share this room?”

“You’ve been gone for so long I figured you went home with someone!”

Josie can hear her sister covering up, a panicked rustle of sheets. When Josie assumes it’s safe to uncover her eyes she’s thankful Lizzie has her massive comforter thrown around her shoulders, wrapping around both sides of her, securing her vulnerable self away in a cotton cocoon. Josie’s mind is still a little hazy, unable to focus too hard on the details. Lizzie has called dibs on a dozen men since they’ve arrived in California though so Josie can’t think of a single person she’d have to sex Skype. All of her recent conquests seem to be just a taxi drive away. 

Whatever. She isn’t going to feel bad about it. In fact—

“You know what?” Josie laughs. “Consider this payback.”

“Oh please,” Lizzie rolls her eyes. 

"What?” Josie kicks her shoes off. “I didn't need you coming out with all that clitorference, okay? You may not like her but Penelope is a nice girl.”

“And Hope?”

Josie takes a step back, unable to answer the simple question. What about Hope? Sure now Josie knows Hope is interested in her (that’s two five star girls now, double the bragging points!) but what does that mean? She looked pretty freaked out after their kiss, does she regret it? Does she want more? 

There is still a chance Hope doesn’t know about Penelope and Josie either. Would she be upset if anything happened between them? Would she feel left out? Would she feel betrayed? Josie massages the back of her neck, feeling nothing but heat and shame there. 

She doesn’t really know the answer to any of those questions.

So she decides just to play dumb, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzie says. “You’re the one who called dibs on _both_ of them.”

“I just got home,” Josie groans, making her way to the closet. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you while you’re naked either.”

“It’s fine,” Lizzie tells her. “I wasn’t expecting a real answer anyway. After all, that would mean you’ve actually thought about it.”

Josie grabs the first acceptable pajamas she comes across (to be perfectly honest she’s about ninety-nine percent sure they belong to Lizzie) and her cute little basket of hygiene supplies. “I’m headed to the bathroom. Please be done with your ridiculously early morning sex affairs by the time I get back.”

“Tch,” Lizzie shakes her head as she slowly opens her laptop back up. “Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The White Russian Twist I described is Vlad SlickBartender’s on YouTube. Did any of you care about that drink description? Probably not. Anyway I’m going to be honest with you guys this story takes me a long time to update for two reasons. One, I don’t write from start to finish. 
> 
> I write the scenes as they come to me and then just jump around until I connect them all to sound like an actual chain of events. Two, the damn writing style I have, in my opinion, is just annoying. I find myself focused on descriptions and setting up the story too much, you know? If I try to publish a book someday I’ll have to cut out soooo much of my writing. I mean, take your typical YA novel for example. It’s usually between 55,000 – 80,000 words long and we’ve surpassed 20,000 in just the first three chapters of this story. 
> 
> So yeah, just know I frustrate myself as much as I frustrate you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Helpful criticism is always appreciated but be kind, please, I’m fragile. I make no promises on future update schedules.


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